


Somebody To You

by dibbles



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Homophobic Language, M/M, POV Multiple, Partying, also the bully isnt mike zacharias hes just a random asshole i swear, im nice like that, it just switches randomly i make sure readers understand who the narrator is tho, its usually armin but sometimes ya girl likes to switch it up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dibbles/pseuds/dibbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean doesn't quite fit in with the clique that bullies Armin, but he, admittedly, has no other friends. Not with his weird middle school past haunting him (he never had a crush on Marco Bott, he swears) and his less-than-friendly personality. Things get a little awkward when Armin is assigned to tutor Jean in Advanced Calculus, but Jean is positive such a thing could never result in friendship.</p><p>In this fic: Armin smokes weed for the first time, Reiner coaches Jean out of the closet, and Eren has a gay crisis. Also, Armin Arlert and Jean Kirstein fall truly, madly and deeply in love with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I met Eren Jaeger my freshman year, when I was a 14 year old kid dreading his next four years at Trost Public High School. My day started off with English class, and I, of course, sat alone while everyone around me partnered up and chatted away. I idly played with the sleeves of my sweater, all too used to this kind of situation. Assuming I'd be a lone wolf in this class, I even put my backpack on the chair next to me, deciding that a nice pro of sitting all by yourself was a handy spot for your backpack. No need to drop it on the dirty floor. Just sit it right next to you. It was nice. Yep, who needed a sitting partner? Not me.

 

Class was ten minutes into session when the door burst open out of nowhere. Standing at the frame of the doorway, hair windblown from running, was a boy with tanned skin, brown hair and the brightest eyes I had ever seen. He was catching his breath, and those intriguing eyes widened as he realized how blatantly he just interrupted class.

 

"I'm...sorry I'm....late," he huffed, doing his best to straighten himself up in an attempt to look casual, although it was obvious he wanted to give into the exhaustion and catch his breath with both hands on his knees. His ragged breathing was the only noise that filled the room for the next few moments, and it was beginning to feel a little awkward.

 

“Mr...Jaeger, is it?” Our teacher finally asked with a stern look on her face. The entire room fell silent and held in a breath, anticipating how she would react to a tardy student.

 

Eren gave a stiff nod, his eyes round and frightened.

 

“I’ll let it go this time, since it’s your first day,” she began, and everyone silently let out the breath they had been holding. “But,” she faced the class with a sharp look on her face. “Tardiness is unacceptable and will not be tolerated in my classroom, is that clear?” We nodded. “Eren, please take the empty seat next to Mr…" her face twisted in thought as she looked at me. "Arlert?”

 

I confirmed her guess at my name and shakily pulled my backpack off the chair to make room for Eren. Sorry, backpack. Looks like I wouldn’t be alone this year, after all. Eren sauntered across the room and plopped down next to me, acting as though the entire ordeal never even happened.

 

He must have noticed me staring, because most I most certainly was. I was bewildered at the fact that not only did he just arrive late to the first class of freshman year, but he managed to not crumple into a fetal position in the middle of the room and die of embarrassment. I mean, that’s what _I_   would have done if that had happened to _me._

 

“Hey, I’m Eren,” he whispered when he noticed my eyes lingering on him. The teacher had resumed her lesson and my eyes widened when I realized how much of a creep I must’ve seemed like, staring at him like that. I tore my gaze away and snapped my attention back to note taking, willing my hair to cover as much of my face as possible.

 

“Armin,” I introduced myself back, just to be polite. I then busied myself with unnecessary note taking to cut off any more conversation; any more chances to make a complete fool of myself.

 

Eren opened up his binder and took out a blank sheet of paper. He shifted in his seat, struggling to catch up on the notes he had missed. I nudged my paper towards him, allowing him to see what I had gotten down so far. When Eren noticed my silent offer of help, he started scribbling the notes down as quickly as he could.

 

“Thanks…I, uh, got lost,” he explained, his head snapping back and forth between my paper and his. I nodded in acknowledgment, unsure of why he felt the need to explain himself to _me._

 

Class resumed normally for the next hour, and while everyone else was relaxing into their new schedule and easing into the high school experience, I sat, mentally restless, in my chair, mind racing with the possibility of a new friend. Sure, okay, Eren was kind of forced to sit next to me, and probably wouldn’t have chosen it at his own free will, but I had always believed in fate. Maybe there was a reason for this. Maybe…maybe we were meant to sit next to each other.

 

My thoughts were interrupted by the bell, and I jumped in my chair as students shuffled out of the room, heading to their next class with confidence I could only dream of.

 

I searched my pockets with increasing nervousness, as I had no idea what my next class was. When all hope seemed lost, I retrieved a heavily folded slip of paper from some abstractly-placed pouch in my backpack. Sighing with relief, I unfolded it and scanned it over. I had lunch next.

 

“Hey, I have lunch next, too!” A voice right next to my ear said. I startled and my neck snapped in the direction of the comment. I hadn’t noticed it, but Eren had been looking over my shoulder this entire time, studying my schedule as I did. My words caught in my throat, and I managed to sputter out a “cool!” before clutching my backpack to my chest and starting out of the room, not bothering to put it on my back.

 

“Do you know where the cafeteria is?” Eren was unphased by my hastiness, apparently, and took a few long strides to catch up to me. _Either he’s just really friendly,_ I pondered, _or fate keeps giving me another chance to not blow a potential friendship._ I let that thought process for a moment, noting that I could only push Eren away so many times before he took a hint and dropped the pursuit.

 

I didn't want that to happen. I really didn't want that to happen, actually. _Just give it a try, Armin. Be nice to him; see what happens!_  I slowed my pace a little bit, letting my strides match up with Eren's. Finding my voice, I answered, "yeah, it's two floors up."

 

.x.

 

The cafeteria was even more crowded than I thought it would be. Much to my dismay, it wasn't just filled with freshman; sophomores, juniors, even seniors could be spotted buying food, relaxing with their friends, or doing homework. I don't know why I was expecting just freshman, but I would be lying if I said the bustle wasn't making me nervous.

 

Eren seemed just as taken aback as me, and we both stood quietly by the doorway for a moment, scanning the room for a place to sit. Eren stood on his tiptoes and peered over the crowd of students. _Oh, great,_ I thought.  _He's looking for his friends._ _He probably has a ton of them to sit with. He definitely wouldn't want to sit with me; he only needed me to show him where the café was._  

 

After a few minutes, Eren's face lit up. "My friend Mikasa's over there. Wanna go sit with her?"

 

"Oh! S-sure," I tried to contain my excitement, as this had been a pleasant surprise. I would be sitting...with actual people? I was so used to burying my nose in a book during lunch; having conversations with other kids was foreign, terrifying, but also very wonderful sounding.

 

Eren started making his was towards to table at the other end of the cafeteria, and I followed close behind. When we got to the table, he plopped down across from a beautiful, pale-skinned girl with black hair and large eyes. As she looked up to greet us, she didn't bother to wipe away the strands that partially covered her face. Her expression seemed a little bored, but she gave a sweet smile to Eren when he sat down. I hesitantly lowered myself into the stool next to him, suddenly becoming aware of my nerves.

 

"Mikasa," Eren started, gesturing towards me. "This is Armin. He's in my English class."

 

"H-hi," My voice wobbled a bit. Darn it.

 

"Hello, Armin," Mikasa said politely. Her voice was quiet, but there was confidence in it. She looked at me for a moment before turning her attention back to Eren, who was writing something in his student planner. I wondered if they were dating, but I definitely wasn't about to ask.

 

Just as I was beginning to further ponder any romantic elements in their relationship, I felt a flick on my shoulder. Blinking, I turned around to find the source of the contact. When I found it, I instantly wished I hadn't looked. It was the same three group of boys who had given me a hard time throughout middle school.  _Dammit, I thought graduating eighth grade meant freedom._  I had blocked their names out of my head, but I hadn't quite been able to block out what it felt like to be shoved against the lockers by the ring leader of the group (a dark-haired, big-boned boy who looked like he was pissed off at the world 24/7).

 

When they saw the look of confusion on my face morph into that of realized horror, a crude snort of laughter erupted amongst them.

 

"Hey. Hey, shroom head. I didn't know you were comin' to Trost High!"

 

I didn't say anything. I wanted to turn around and ignore their annoying comments, but my body felt numb with crippling familiarity.

 

"I thought Mr. Straight-A's would end up at a nice, expensive private school. Guess he's not so smart after all."

 

I sunk a little lower in my seat, wanting desperately to tell him that I _had_ gotten into a nice, expensive private school. Problem was, Alice couldn't afford expensive, so that was marked off the list as soon as she saw the tuition price. Either way, I kept my mouth shut. I had been teased enough to know that staying silent was the best way to go.

 

"Listen, you little nerd. You don't fit in here. You don't fit in anywhere. So stay the fuck out of my way and don't go bugging me like you did in middle school, got it?" His pudgy face was inches from mine, and I could see the beads of sweat on his hairline.

 

At this point, Eren realized that this boy wasn't trying to have a friendly meet-up with me. He sat down next to me on my side of the table and narrowed his eyes at the group of boys. He leaned towards them with an elbow on his knee, and those intriguing bright eyes suddenly looked dark and threatening.

 

"You got a problem, asshole?" He said in a loud voice, and my eyes widened. I hadn't been expecting that.

 

The boy, whose name I remembered to be Mike, frowned at Eren. "I don't got no _problem_ , 'cept for this little twinkie you're hangin' around with." Mike drove a fat finger into Eren's scapula to shove him away, but he barely budged.

 

"Alright," Eren swatted Mike's hand away from his shoulder. "If you have that much of a problem, how about you just stay the fuck away from him?"

 

Mike snickered. "Look at you. Defending a little _freak_ you barely even know. Both of you better stay the fuck out of my way this year, or we're gonna have a problem."

 

Eren's eyes darkened as Mike and his friends turned to walk away. His fingers clenched into fists at his sides, and Mikasa gasped when he stood up and made to catch up with them. She strode over to him hurriedly, grabbing his wrists and tugging him back to our table.

 

"Eren," she said firmly. It was an order with few words, but Eren understood.

 

"Sorry," he slumped in his chair, and Mikasa gave a last glare at the pack of boys before turning her attention back to me.

 

"I'm sorry those boys are mean to you," her gaze softened when she looked at me, and her words were gentle.

 

"It's...it's fine. T-they were like that all through middle school, but really it's not a big deal or anything..." I said quickly, trying way too hard to brush off the bullies as no big deal. The more I sputtered, the more concerned Mikasa's eyes became, and I noted that she communicated more with her face than with actual words.

 

I finally cut off my ridiculous speel and sighed. "Yeah, it kinda sucks." My head hung a little, and for a while, no one said anything.

 

"I hate people like that," Eren muttered finally, still slumped over. "Listen, Armin. If they're mean to you or anything, let me know, okay? And don't let them treat you like that. Don't let them treat you like shit. "

 

When I met Eren's gaze, he was looking right at me with all the promise and intent in the world. My heart warmed inside, and I knew that he meant every word he said. Just as I was about to thank him, Mikasa spoke up.

 

"Tell me, too. I'll help in any way I can." Her words were just as sincere as Eren's, and I was surprised that my heart didn't completely give out on me right there.

 

"I-I will. Thank you guys so much." I was still completely awe-struck, and it took all the willpower I had to not literally tear up right then and there. Eren and Mikasa eventually resumed talking as normal, but I stayed silent, unable to shake the feeling that things were really looking up for me. That maybe, just maybe, high school wouldn't be as lonely and miserable as I thought.

 

.x.

 

From that day on, Eren and Mikasa have been my best friends. They've done more for me than I could ever say, and even now, years later, they still stay by my side. They stay by my side even though the bullies haven't gone away. They stay by my side because they care about me, and I care about them just as much.

 

But this story isn't about them. This story is about the boy I met my junior year in high school. The insecure, troubled boy who wore a mask to hide his pain. The boy who had the power to hurt me more than any bully ever could, but the boy who I utterly and desperately fell for. This story is about Jean Kirstein, and how his heart became one with mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked the first chapter! jean gets introduced in the next one, so stay tuned! :)
> 
> thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've got the words to change a nation,  
> but you're biting your tongue.  
> You spend a lifetime stuck in sadness, afraid you'll say something wrong.  
> If no one ever hears it,  
> how're we gonna learn your song?"  
> -Emeli Sande, Read All About It Pt. III

I often try to tell myself it's nothing personal. They don't hate _me,_ they're just...unhappy with themselves. Yeah. They're insecure. That's what Alice says, anyways.

 

That didn't really numb the pain, though. It was the kind of thing that just…built up over time. All the bullying, that is. I reached a point freshman year where it was like I was protected by a shield made of my own built up pain. I was so broken, the bullies couldn't possibly tear me down any farther. In a way, it was like I had won. In their...face?

 

But then I met Eren and Mikasa, and things got a lot better. Throughout my first couple of years at Trost, Eren got into his fair share of fist fights with Mike, no matter how hard I tried to keep him from them. He was more reckless than I could have initially pegged him as, and Mikasa wasn't any more reserved. She had no problem throwing a (really powerful) threatening shove to whoever just drove me into a locker, and I had no doubt in my mind that Mike was more frightened of her than Eren.

 

That's why, going into my junior year, things felt different; they felt better. I had my best friends who I was closer with than ever, I was number one in my class, and I had even grown a few inches (thought I was still shorter than Eren and Mikasa).

 

On the first day of classes, Eren and I hung out in the hallway, excitedly going over our schedules and counting how many classes we had together. I was taking a lot of AP courses that year and even a senior math class, so we only shared some. Better than nothing, I suppose. Plus, Mikasa was in some of my APs, so I wouldn't be alone and friendless in _all_ of my classes, at least.

 

Out of nowhere, I felt a large, sweaty hand collide with my upper arm and slam me into the nearest wall. I recoiled under their touch, attempting to shield myself from another assault. However, Mike seemed content with just a shove today, and his laughter rung in my ears as him and his three other friends continued to stroll down the hall. As I steadied myself, I heard a few profane insults leave their lips. _Well, Armin, nothing you haven't heard before..._

 

Wait...something wasn't right here. Mike only had _two_ other friends who teased me. Who was this other guy sauntering along behind them? The one with the undercut, whose hair was two completely different colors? He gave a glance back towards me, and the cocky smirk never left his face, even when he turned away and continued down the hall.

 

While I wasn't sure who Mike's new clique member was, Eren recognized him immediately.

 

"What the fuck are you doing here, Kirstein!?" He bellowed, and I latched onto his arm to prevent him from getting into a physical fight on the first day of school. "Got kicked out of your prissy little academy already?"

 

The boy, recognizing Eren's voice, turned around again and rolled his eyes. "Fuck off, Jaeger." He raised his middle finger to Eren and shoved it into the pocket of his low-riding khakis before disappearing into the crowd of students.

 

"Who was that?" I stared at Eren with curious eyes, less concerned about the growing bruise on my shoulder from Mike's little shove and more concerned about how Eren knew this kid.

 

"The biggest douche on planet Earth."

 

"What's his name?" I inquired patiently. It was hard getting information out of Eren when he was angry.

 

"Jean," he spit. "Jean Kirstein. We went to middle school together."

 

I let his name marinate in my mind for a moment, recalling the smug grin on his face when he looked me in the eyes. _Jean? It's pronounced kind of like John_ _...he must be French or something._

 

"It looks like you two don't like each other very much." I gently tried to pry more information out of him while adjusting the sleeves of my cardigan.

 

"Is it that obvious?" He laughed humorlessly, and I frowned. "Sorry, Armin, I'm not mad at you. Yeah, no, we don't get along. His family is a bunch of rich snobs. They live in that huge house at the end of my neighborhood; the one where you said their lawn looked 'pristine'."

 

My jaw dropped. "They live in _that_ house? Why didn't you tell me you knew the family when I said that?"

 

"I didn't wanna waste time talking about a family full of dicks while we were hanging out."

 

At this response, I realized Eren must really hate this kid, so I let the subject matter drop for the time being. When the bell rang for first period, Eren and I went our separate ways, planning to meet up with each other during break.

 

.x.

 

My first class was advanced calculus, a senior class. It was all the way in Building Maria, which was a huge pain to get to, with it being all the way across campus. I got there a minute before the bell was supposed to ring and took my seat in the front row, as usual. I couldn't help my nerdy tendencies, and if I sat anywhere other than the front row, it would be harder to pay attention in class.

 

I zoned out as everyone took their seats, but was yanked back to reality when I recognized one of the students entering class. _Of course_.

 

Jean Kirstein moseyed right on into the classroom without a care in the world and plopped down into the seat next to mine. _What in the world is he doing in a senior math course?_ A look of recognition crossed his face, and he flashed me a pompous grin.

 

"Hey, you're the kid from earlier, right? You were hanging around with Jaeger."

 

"Yeah," I answered weakly, my shoulders hunched and my body turned away from him. I was trying to send Jean hints that I wasn't interested in conversing with him, but he seemed completely oblivious.  I guess I shouldn't have been surprised.

 

"Jaeger," he mumbled absentmindedly, drumming his pencil against the wooden desk. He turned back to me. "I don't know why you'd hang out with a little bitch like him, but to each his own, I guess."

 

I wasn't bold enough to verbally argue with Jean for talking about my best friend like that, so instead I mustered up the most bitter expression I could manage and shot it in his direction. When he saw it, he just snorted with suppressed laughter. I didn't like this guy already.

 

Class started, and I was thankful that Jean wouldn't be sticking his nose in my business anymore. Mr. Pixis wasted no time jumping into the curriculum, and by the middle of class, I was already struggling to keep up with the new material. I glanced at Jean, whose cocky façade had faded and who was scrambling to keep up with the notes just I was. His expression was akin to fear, and he was whipping his head back and forth between his paper and the whiteboard, desperately writing everything down. For the second time that day, I couldn't help but wonder why he was taking such a difficult class.

 

When the second bell rang, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was only 9:00am and the first period of the day, but I already felt the stress that this class would bring. I put my worries in the back of my head for the time being and began to head to lunch. As I was leaving the classroom, I noticed Jean hang back, waiting for all of the other students to leave the room before approaching Mr. Pixis' desk slowly. I didn't want to be rude and eavesdrop on their conversation (no matter how curious I was) so I shuffled quietly out of the room, clutching the straps of my backpack.

 

By the time I made it to the cafeteria, I forgot about the whole ordeal. Instead, I was greeted by Eren and Mikasa waving me over to their table, which I happily strode over to. _Thank goodness I have a lunch with both of them this year._  As I sat down next to Eren, I noticed that it wasn't just the three of us at the table. Across from me, Mikasa sat next to a kid with a buzz cut and a brunette wearing a high ponytail. I smiled shyly at the guests, and Eren put his hand on my shoulder.

 

"Armin, this is Connie and Sasha. Connie's in my chemistry class, and we knew each other in middle school."

 

"Well, kind of. You were that kid who got sent to the hall during music class because you kept yelling. That's all I remember." Connie said, and Eren laughed at the memory.

 

"Sasha's in Pre-Calc with me." Mikasa explained.

 

"H-hi, I'm Armin." I said shyly. Eren discreetly rubbed comforting circles on my back, knowing how nervous I got meeting new people. He gave me a quick pat on the shoulder before dropping his hand to his side and returning to the conversation.

 

"Yo, Armin," Connie greeted. "Eren said you're, like, super smart, so I doubt you'll be with me in any of my dumb kid classes."

 

I blushed, unsure of how to respond to the compliment. Thankfully, the brunette girl stepped in for me.

 

"Shut up, Connie," Sasha shoved him lightly. "Maybe if you actually _studied,_ you'd be in APs, too."

 

Connie frowned at her, and I giggled at their exchange. _I guess everyone sort of knows each other already, huh...._  Then, before I thought about what I was saying, I remembered something.

 

"Oh, Eren, I forgot to tell you," I began, turning my body to face him. "Jean is in my math class."

 

"Jean _Kirstein?_ You know that kid?" Connie interjected. Eren frowned, and a look of disgust crossed his face.

 

"Armin had the pleasure of meeting him this morning. Jean was hanging around with these douchebags who tease him a lot." He explained, and then looked back at me. "Aren't you in, like, Advanced Calc? Jean is smart, but..."

 

I shrugged. "We're the only two juniors in the class."

 

"I'm pretty sure that kid was seriously crushing on Marco Bott in seventh grade. Don't you remember, Eren?" Connie dished, lowering his voice.

 

"He used to hit on me a lot in middle school. I don't think he's gay." Mikasa reminded him with an arched eyebrow.

 

"Maybe he's bi?" Sasha offered with a mouth full of food. I didn't think she went to middle school with those three or even knew Jean at all, but they seemed to take her idea into consideration.

 

Curiosity was killing me, and I had to ask. "Connie, did he _say_ he liked this Marco kid?"

 

Connie glanced around his perimeter cautiously, as if Jean could be lurking anywhere. "Well, no. He didn't directly say it or anything. But, like, those two were best friends, right? Jean would always be really, like, _touchy_ with him, especially in seventh and eighth grade. And he blushed a lot around him, too. I dunno, it just screamed schoolboy crush to me."

 

"I remember that, too, actually. " Mikasa acknowledged.

 

"But then he'd turn around and make a move on Mikasa. So I don't know. I don't know what the fuck that kid is, and I don't care." Eren said, crossing his arms. We let the subject drop at that point, going over our schedules to see if we had anything with Sasha or Connie. I had a study hall with Sasha, but nothing besides lunch with Connie. He laughed, making some remark about being too dumb for me or something. I always hated it when people made a comment about my academic standings or the classes I take, but Connie was so good natured about it that it was hard to be annoyed at all.

 

After an hour of chatting, the bell rang, and we all shared a collective groan. I waved goodbye to my new...friends? Could I call them that? I wasn't sure yet. Either way, I began making my way to Chemistry with a little more spring in my step, excited that the ratio of people who bullied me to people who were actually nice to me was starting to tip in a positive direction. Much like freshman year, I had a good feeling about this year. I liked how it was beginning.

 

Who cared about Jean Kirstein?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was really fun to write! also I'm trying to have good pacing; like not too fast and definitely not too slow, but it's harder than it looks! so constructive criticism is always welcome:)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So tell me when you're gonna let me in;  
> I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin.  
> And if you have a minute why don't we go  
> talk about it somewhere only we know?  
> This could be the end of everything,  
> so why don't we go  
> somewhere only we know?"  
> -Keane, Somewhere Only We Know

A part of me was pleasantly surprised when I walked into chemistry class and didn't see anyone I knew; there had been a knot in my stomach that I would find a certain Kirstein kid sitting front and center, giving me that pompous grin and nagging me about what a loser my best friend was. Or what a loser I was.

 

Instead, I was greeted by a room filled with people I had never seen before. Great. This wasn't making me nervous at all. What made things even more nerve-wracking was the fact that, instead of desks, the classroom had tables that fit two students, and I inferred that the person I sat next to would be my lab partner for the semester. _Choose wisely, Armin. Choose wisely._

I clenched my teeth and built up the courage to sit next to a tall, freckle-y kid with large, brown eyes and dark brown hair parted in the middle. He gave a friendly smile to me when I took my seat, and my nerves calmed a bit.

 

"Hey! I'm Marco," he introduced himself in a chipper tone, and I patted myself on the back for a lab partner well chosen. He was even sitting in the front row, too, so he must care about his grades.

 

Wait.

 

Marco. Weren't we just talking about a Marco in lunch? The one Jean supposedly had a crush on? Could this be him? _Wait, Armin, stop. Marco isn't_ that _uncommon of a name...he's probably not the same one. What was his last name supposed to be, anyways? Butt? Boot? This guy seems way too nice to ever hang around someone like Jean Kirstein._

 

I caught myself staring at Marco in the midst of my spiraling train of thought. Straightening up, I tried to recover from it. "H-hi! I'm Armin, nice to meet you."

 

Marco nodded, too polite to show discomfort at my odd greeting. _Dammit, Armin. Just wait for attendance and stop embarrassing yourself._

 

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat until the bell rang, not quite socially adequate enough to keep a conversation going with Marco. The teacher pulled out her clipboard for attendance, and I leaned forward in anticipation.

 

"Arlert, Armin," she called out the first name in a nasally voice.

 

"Here." I replied, and my voice definitely cracked. Dang it, that always happens.

 

"Bott, Marco." She droned. I sucked in a breath. _Bott. That was it. It's Bott. Marco Bott. Oh my-_

 

"Here." Marco chirped next to me, and it was all I could do not to fall out of my chair right then and there. I side-eyed my new lab partner curiously, picturing him hanging out with Jean in middle school; picturing Jean falling for those eyes and that smile. Connie had mentioned that they were best friends, but something in me just couldn't picture that. Maybe there was another side of Jean, though; a side I wasn't giving him credit for. I barely knew him, after all. Maybe there was a part of Jean that was good enough to be friends with a genuine-seeming guy like Marco.

 

I definitely wasn't on the grounds to ask Marco about his past friendship with Jean, so I bit my tongue. Maybe there would be a day where I would find out their past, but that day wasn’t today. Besides, why was I so worried about Jean? I didn't even know him, and I didn’t even think I wanted to. I should just focus on getting to know Marco, and maybe even becoming a friend of his.

 

.x.

 

Break finally rolled around, and I was happy to reunite with Eren and Mikasa. We found a bench at the end of the hallway to sit on, and all of us released a deep sigh.

 

"I already have so much homework tonight," Eren groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation.

 

"You'll get it done, Eren," Mikasa promised. While they went over the piles of work they had that night, I zoned out. I thought about Marco and his past with Jean. I didn't know why, but my mind was suddenly wrapped up in the enigma that was Jean Kirstein's sexuality. It was a mystery as to why I was meditating on someone else's sexual orientation when I wasn't even entirely sure of my _own,_ but I've always been one to think too much about things that don't concern me.

 

I pined over telling Eren that Marco was in my chemistry class, but knowing how he gets when anything about Jean was brought up, I decided against and tried to bring my mind back to reality.

 

Reality, as usual, proved to be my enemy. I was greeted with a sudden tug on my hair, and I let out a pathetic whimper that fueled the condescending laughter of Mike and his friends. I rubbed my scalp where the hair had been pulled and felt my confidence shrink to a nonexistent state.

 

Eyes wide, I looked up to see if Mike was still standing over me. Lucky for me, he was, and he was staring down at me with an ugly, fat-lipped smile.

 

“Fag,” he spit the word as though it were my last name and followed it with a flick on my forehead. I shied away from his prying hands until they were suddenly cut off.

 

Eren shot up from his seat in one swift, violent movement and grabbed a fistful of Mike’s hoodie.

 

“Get the fuck away from him,” he seethed, their noses almost touching. It was then that I noticed Jean was there, standing well behind Mike’s two other friends. He looked awkward and displaced, and he had his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. His head was angled away from this entire ordeal, acting like it wasn’t even happening. By the way his jaw was clenching and unclenching, it looked like he really just wanted out of this situation.

 

My focus was torn away from Jean when Mike made a guttural noise in the back of his throat, pursing his lips into a tight circle to aim a large ball of saliva at the center of Eren’s face. When the slimy substance made contact, my best friend’s face twisted into something that was a hybrid of absolute and pure disgust and boiling _rage._

 

Eyes shut tight to prevent Mike’s putrid bodily fluid from entering them, Eren threw a reckless, blind fist to his general direction. I gasped when the punch connected with Mike’s right eye, and his two friends grabbed his arms to pull him away. One of them gave Eren a harsh shove, which knocked him down next to me. In the midst of the growing chaos, I made direct eye contact with Jean, whose lips were pressed in a thin line and whose eyes looked stoic and unpitying. He frowned a little before sharply averting his gaze from me. _Well, then._

 

“You fucking _dick!”_ Mike cried, stammering backwards and holding a hand tightly over his eye. “You absolute, fucking _dick!”_ He took purposeful strides towards Eren, but before he could land any hits, someone stepped in.

 

Mikasa’s hand rested at the center of Mike’s large chest, holding him back firmly. “When will you learn to stay the hell away from us?!” She asked in a murderous tone, and the question sounded little like a plea and a lot like a threat. Mike’s friends immediately let go of him and took a step away, which said a lot about how terrified they were of her. Mike held his ground, but the aggressive look in his eyes wavered.

 

Mikasa, deciding she didn’t need an answer to her question, used the hand planted on his chest to give a forceful shove, pinning the bully to the nearest wall.

 

“I swear on my life this is your last chance.” She pronounced each word sharply, dragging out her threat in a bone chilling manner. She let her hand drop, and Mike took the opportunity to put on a lamely-executed tough boy act, rolling his eyes and stepping away from her as though he hadn’t almost just shit himself.

 

“Let’s ditch these losers,” his voiced trembled ever so slightly, and he brought his hand up to cover his developing black eye. The group recollected themselves and ambled off, but not before mumbling something about what a pathetic, defenseless little shit I was.

 

Jean hung back as they disappeared into the crowd of students, as though he wanted to prove himself better than his lowlife friends just because he wasn’t waltzing off with them. I eyed him suspiciously as he opened his mouth to say something, but he immediately cut himself off by bringing a closed fist to his mouth. Finally, after a short internal struggle, he sauntered off slowly, sticking his hands into his khaki pockets where they often rested.

 

Eren had managed to wipe the slobber off of his face and blinked a few times before fully opening his eyes.

 

“Armin, are you okay?” He asked as soon as he saw my face.

 

“I’m fine! I’m fine. You guys…thank you so much.” I choked on the last of my words and made myself shut up before I started sobbing in the middle of the hallway. I felt like such a _burden;_ a burden to the people I called my best friends. I didn’t want them to pity me, and I didn’t want to need their protection. I think that was the hardest part about the entire situation; the feeling of inadequacy driving me into a hole of pure self-hatred.

 

The small amount of slobbery residue still visible on Eren’s nose pierced me with more guilt than I was prepared for. _He let himself get spit on for me._ I hiccupped a bit, on the verge of letting the tears spill. Eren and Mikasa were looking at me with round, concerned eyes, their heads cocked as they watched me struggle to maintain my composure.

 

“Armin…” Mikasa sighed, and I knew that she understood what was going through my mind. That only added to my shame, and I lowered my head so they didn’t have to see what a mess I was. She simply ducked her head beneath mine so she could still see my face.

 

“Don’t…” I covered my face with my hands, feeling like a complete child. Might as well call them Papa Eren and Mama Mikasa, because that’s how much they looked after me.

 

It wasn’t that I had a _problem_ with the fact that they stood up for me; no, it made me feel warm inside whenever they protected me. It made me feel like I belonged somewhere. The problem was the guilt I felt that my issues had to become theirs. The problem was that I was too weak to take care of myself. The problem was that I was afraid of being on my own.

 

The problem was that I couldn’t _handle_ being on my own.

 

In a moment of ultimate vulnerability, I considered spilling all of my thoughts out to them in that moment. However, the intelligent side of my brain scolded my stupidity. _Why would you want to burden them with more of your own dumb problems when they already deal with half of them for you? Don’t be a wimp, Armin._

 

I pushed my pity-party thoughts to the back of my head for the time being and lifted my gaze to meet my friends.

 

“I’m okay, guys, really” I sniffed. “I’m just really thankful you both are always here for me.”

 

Their gazes softened, and Eren’s hand rested on my leg. “Of course, Armin,” he gave me a crooked smile, and I felt okay.

 

.x.

 

Mike didn’t bother me for the rest of the day, which didn’t surprise me, considering Mikasa meant every word she said about this being his last chance. He’d be back, there was no question, but it wouldn’t be today, and that was good enough for me.

 

Eren and I went back to his house after school; Mikasa had gone to hang out with Sasha, apparently, and he needed some help with his chemistry homework. I happily obliged, and hoped that busying myself with schoolwork would get my mind off the rollercoaster of emotions I felt that day.

 

It didn’t help when we drove by Jean’s house and I could see him walking up the long, perfectly paved driveway with his backpack slung over one shoulder. That did the _opposite_ of take my mind off my problems. When Eren saw him, he snorted.

 

“Look at that dick. Was he there with Mike today? I don’t remember seeing him.”

 

I recalled the direct eye contact we made, and Jean’s cold stare as he watched me and my friends being harassed. I recalled him hanging back while Eren scrubbed the saliva off of his face, words he wanted to say being choked back down. I recalled him walking off alone, not quite fitting in with Mike and his friends.

 

“No, I didn’t see him.” I decided I would just leave it at that. I didn’t want Eren pursuing a fight with Jean if he found out that he actually _was_ there as a bystander to my bullying. I would cover for him, just this once.

 

For Eren’s sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this chapter! This was only 2k something words, and I'm hoping to make longer chapters in the future as the story develops more. I know for a fact that each chapter will be at LEAST 1k words (im shooting for at least 2k per chapter). Anyways, thank you so much for the comments, the reads, and the kudos! it really really really means a lot!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And I don't want the world to see me,  
> 'cause I don't think that they'd understand.  
> When everything's made to be broken,  
> I just want you to know who I am."  
> ~Goo Goo Dolls, Iris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gotta love how immersed armin is slowly becoming in the mystery that is jean kirstein. he'll know more, soon enough ;)
> 
> and so will you.
> 
> things start to pick up in this chapter, and I hope you like it!

The next few months of school seemed to fly by. Before I knew it, it was the middle of October, and the first semester of my junior year was reaching its halfway point. I'd only had several minor mental breakdowns thus far, and I could attribute about 80% of them to history. This was partially because that was my other class with Jean, and partially because I was getting a B in it. If I wanted to keep my spot as number one in the class, a B wasn’t an option.

 

Alice told me not to put so much pressure on myself, but how else was I supposed to go to college? We didn’t have that kind of money, and she knew that. She knew that out of anyone. I had to get all A’s, and I had never wanted, no, _needed_ a grade so desperately in my life.

 

One class that wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, although my class would beg to differ, was Advanced Calculus. Sure, I spent a little extra time on that homework because it was so time consuming, but I was earning an A in it without _too_ much stress. Within the first month of school, over half of the students in that class dropped it because of its difficulty, and now the class was even smaller than it had already started out as.

 

To my surprise, Jean was not one of the students that had dropped out, although his scores were usually low C’s, some of them even D’s. He would always scoff at me when I got a good grade back, and I would quickly file it in my binder and pretend not to notice his rude behavior.

 

Besides Jean and I, the class had a few…prominent personalities. There was Reiner Braun, the senior football captain who was a lot smarter than his class clown persona would let on. Him and Jean seemed to already know each other and occasionally chatted, which was a mystery to me.

 

Then there was Ymir…what was her last name? She liked to make snarky remarks to Mr. Pixis and brag to me and Jean about how nice it was to be a senior. There was Bertolt Hoover, Reiner’s close friend, whose cheeks would flare scarlet in secondhand embarrassment whenever Reiner said something inappropriate during class. Finally, there was Annie Leonhardt, another senior, who seemed to be friends with Reiner and Bertolt, although I couldn’t really tell from her distant personality and scowling face. I’m pretty sure she was getting an A+ in that class, though.

 

Needless to say, life was a tundra of activities for me; I had enough homework to keep me busy for hours, I had new friends like Connie, Sasha and even Marco (although he was still a little shy, like me) who actually wanted to hang out with me, and, on top of that, I had to deal with Mike’s daily harassments. He had gotten less physical with me since Mikasa’s terrifying threat, but her promise to end him if he touched me again didn’t quite put a cork in his mouth. I heard things like “fag”, “bitch” or “pussy” directed at me on a daily basis, and it was usually when I was walking alone in the hallway or, at the very least, when Mikasa wasn’t around. The number of times I’ve yanked on Eren’s arm to prevent him from starting a legitimate fist fight with Mike in the hallway is alarming.

 

 It was funny, though. Jean hung around with the people who bullied me, but he always stayed back when the actual bullying took place; I don’t think he’s ever uttered a slang word at me, either. Which was surprising, because he was a giant ass to me in history, even moreso in calc, so I really wouldn’t put it past him to throw a “fag” in my direction.

 

He hasn’t, though. And he gets a really…weird look on his face whenever Mike says something like that to me. He looks uncomfortable, like he just wants to leave, maybe even step in somehow, and his features scrunch together in a look that is akin to disgust. It’s rather contradictive to his personality, so I just keep on calling him a dick with Eren simply because I’m too damn busy to look into his character any deeper than that.

 

.x.

 

After the bell rang to end Calc on a Thursday afternoon, Mr. Pixis called me over to his desk. My heart froze, and my mind immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. _Did I not date my homework? Did I forget to write my name on our last test?? Did I **fail** our last test??? _

 

I took small steps over to Mr. Pixis, telling myself to calm down and be realistic. I probably wasn’t in trouble (key word: probably); I had an A in the class, for goodness sake! What could he possibly want to talk to me about, though? I must have looked a little pale, because Mr. Pixis dispelled my worries.

 

“You don’t need to look so frightened. You’re not in trouble, you know.” He assured, and my shoulders physically dropped in relief. The nervous energy inside me slowly evaporated, and a part of me was annoyed with Mr. Pixis for not telling me this sooner.

 

“Oh, okay,” I squeaked out, still mildly traumatized.

 

“I just wanted to talk to you about something,” he sat down in the chair behind his desk, cupping his hands together. “As you know, we had our chapter four test last week, and most of the class got at least a B on it, so I’m not too concerned with them.”

 

I nodded my head to show attentiveness, but I still wasn’t sure what he was getting at.

 

“You got the highest grade in the class, Armin. You got a 97 on the test. I was very impressed; congratulations.”

 

I felt my face heat up a little. “Oh! Thank you, Mr. Pixis.”

 

“No need to thank me. It was _your_ hard work that earned you the grade, after all,” he said, and I nodded a little, eternally the worst person ever at taking compliments.

 

“But that’s not the reason I called you after class.” _Here it comes._ “Do you know Jean Kirstein at all?”

 

 _Wait, what?_ “Yeah, a little, I guess.” I tried to conceal the grimace that instinctually emerged on my face at the mention of his name.

 

“He’s been struggling a lot with this class, and he got a D on the chapter four test. Now, I tried telling him that dropping to a lower level course would be okay in his situation, but he’s already taken all the other math courses leading up to Advanced Calc at his old high school, so this is kind of his only option.”

 

“I see,” I nodded, finally making sense of why Jean was in a senior class.

 

“I think it would be very beneficial, Armin, if you could tutor him in this class. Annie Leonhardt is also getting an A, so I _could_ ask her, but I’m asking you because you seem, well,” Mr. Pixis chuckled to himself. “Frankly, you seem a little more approachable. Plus, you’re in Jean’s grade, so it’s less intimidating for him.”

 

I couldn’t really imagine Jean Kirstein being intimidated by anyone, really, but I nodded nonetheless.

 

I felt stuck. Annie would probably make a lousy tutor, and I was on good enough terms with the teacher that he trusted me enough to help another kid pass his class. There wasn’t much I could say other than yes, no matter how much my heart sunk at the thought of spending any more time with Jean than I needed to. _Eren’s gonna flip when he hears about this in lunch._

 

“Yeah, I can tutor him,” I forced as much enthusiasm into my voice as I could, but I could sense the dread in my own words.

 

 Mr. Pixis smiled. “Wonderful! I’ll talk to you both at the end of next class and set up some times. Thank you very much, Armin.”

 

“Ah, you’re welcome,” I waved at him one last time before exiting the room and heading down to lunch, finally letting out an exasperated sigh. _This is just what I need,_ I thought bitterly. _I’ll help this asshole pass the class, and he’ll do what? Hang around with kids who make my life miserable? Call me a faggot?_ My knuckles turned white as I gripped the straps of my backpack, and I even considered running back to Mr. Pixis’ room and declining his request.

_“Sorry, I don’t help out douchebags,”_ I imagined myself declaring to an unsuspecting Mr. Pixis. That’s definitely what I would say if I had the balls to do something like that…which I didn’t. Nope, knowing me, I’d pull a classic Armin Arlert and tutor him without a peep; I’d even be extra patient if he didn’t understand something, because I don’t have it in me to be an outward dick to anyone. _I hate myself._

 

When I got to the cafeteria, my anger had subsided a little, and even though I planned to be optimistic about this whole thing, I couldn’t rid myself of the dread weighing on me like a brick. Dread that reminded me how much I did _not_ want to do this.

 

I sat down next to Eren heavily, sighing as I hit the stool.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked, turning to face me. I decided to get right to the point.

 

“I have to tutor Jean in calc,” I pouted, and Eren’s jaw tightened.

 

“Shiiiit,” Connie dragged out, picking up on what I said. Sasha frowned at his dramatic reaction.

 

“Why?” Eren demanded. I told him the whole story, and I made sure to justify _why_ I said yes so he didn’t think I jumped into this eagerly.

 

“Damn, Armin I give you mad props, man. An A in Pixis’ _Advanced Calc?_ I’m getting a B in _Pre-Calc.”_ Connie praised when I was done explaining, and I smiled at the compliment.

 

 “I still can’t believe you agreed to tutor that ass,” Eren muttered, and my heart sank at the thought that he was mad at me. I knew he hated the very core of Jean’s being, but would he really let himself get bothered over _this?_ This was my problem, not his.

 

“Eren, by the sounds of it, Armin didn’t really have a choice here.” Mikasa stepped in, and I shot her a grateful look.

 

“I know, I know. I’m not mad at you. I just…dammit. He really doesn’t deserve your help, Armin. He doesn’t deserve it at all.”

 

Those were my thoughts exactly, but they sounded harsh when Eren said them out loud. A small side of me felt bad, like I should give Jean a chance. A larger side of me wanted to shove that smaller side of me into a trash can for thinking that.

 

“Yeah, well, there’s nothing I can do about it now. I have to help him pass.” I sighed, mentally adding yet another thing onto the list of stresses in my life. I’d lost count at how many things there were at this point. I sensed a mental breakdown in my near future.

 

“You should totally teach him all the wrong shit and watch him _fail!”_ Connie slapped his knee and burst into hysterics over his own (terrible) idea.

 

“Connie, you shithead, that would make Armin look terrible.” Sasha gave him an incredulous look, and Connie shrugged.

 

“Connie, that is literally such a bad idea,”Eren said, but his voice was shaking with laughter.

 

“Whatever guys, screw you!” Connie laughed along with them, and I felt my spirits lift a bit.

 

.x.

 

Jean definitely saw me staring at him during Calc the next day; we got our tests back at the end of class, and I made sure to hastily hide my 97 so he wouldn’t make any snide remarks. Today, I was more concerned with how _he_ reacted to failing a test. I was in full tutor-mode; studying my student-to-be to see just how much failing bothered him.

 

Mr. Pixis was silent as he handed Jean his test to him, face-down. Jean sighed and took a moment to just sit in his chair without looking at his grade. _He must know he failed,_ I thought.Finally, he frowned deeply at the exam, lifting up just enough paper to only see what he got. When he processed the score, I saw his features fall; eyes that usually glared at everyone around him looked disheartened and grieved, and lips that were usually pressed into a pissy, thin line were parted slightly in disappointment.

 

He caught my gaze lingering on him, and snapped his attention towards me. “What the hell are you looking at?” His face was back to its regular scowl, and my eyes widened in fear.

 

“N-nothing!” I turned away from him, twiddling my thumbs and waiting for the bell to hurry up and ring already.

 

“Wh…what’d you get on it?”

 

I slowly looked back to the boy next to me, unsure if I was just hearing things. Jean never made conversation with me, so why was he interested in what I got on a test that he bombed? He was staring at me with sadness in his eyes, like he was hoping I didn’t do so great, either; like he was hoping he wasn’t all alone in his failure. My mouth parted slightly as I dug for a way out of this. He looked so insecure, so unlike he usually does. I couldn’t just tell him I got a 97.

 

“I…I did fine on it.” I admitted shamefully, feeling like I owed him an apology for some reason. I couldn’t have lied and said I did poorly; I would be tutoring him, so he would obviously know soon enough that I grasped the concepts in this class.

 

“Like, what number did you get on it?” He pressed with a little more confidence in his voice. I sighed. _Jean, do you really want to know this?_

 

To hold off answering him for as long as possible, I pretended I forgot what grade I received and opened my binder to pull out my test. The red _97_ circled on the top of my exam pierced me with even more undeserved guilt, and I chewed on my thumbnail.

 

“Um…a 97.” I confessed, averting my eyes from his face so I wouldn’t see his reaction.

 

I heard Jean scoff, and realized his vulnerable, insecure state had vanished. “Of-fucking-course,” he mumbled sourly. The words seemed to be directed more towards himself than towards me, but I still took insult, especially when I had tried my best to prevent Jean from knowing my score.

 

I looked away from him then, allowing my hair to cover my face so he couldn’t see my injured expression. For a minute there, he actually looked approachable, but then he turned around and got snippy with me again in a second. _What the hell is this guy’s problem?_

 

The bell finally rung and Jean angrily slung his backpack over one shoulder, thundering out of the classroom with a grimace on his face that looked like it was carved onto him. I hung back in my seat, knowing what was coming next.

 

“Wait, Jean, hang on for a minute. I need to talk to you.” Mr. Pixis stopped him just before he got out of the classroom. Jean paused, his back facing us for a moment before he slowly turned around on his heel and sauntered a few steps back into the room. He noticed me still sitting in my seat and shot me a look.

 

“What are you still doing here?”

 

“Jean,” Mr. Pixis interrupted him. “Remember our talk about getting you a tutor for this class? Because you can’t really drop it at this point?”

 

“I need it for my major,” Jean explained, still pissed off.

 

“Yes, so we were going to set you up with a tutor, right?”

 

Jean’s eye’s fell back on me, and he instantly made the connection. “Is he gonna tutor me?”

 

 _I’m right here, you dick._ I thought bitterly, in disbelief that I actually felt pity for this kid less than ten minutes ago.

 

“Armin has agreed to tutor you, yes,” Mr. Pixis said slowly, trying his best to be patient. “I could ask either Annie Leonhardt or Marco Bott, a junior in my other class, but I really think Armin is your best option here.”

 

At the mention of Marco’s name, Jean’s expression paled. His eyes went wide and he choked on the gum he had been chewing, coughing violently for a few seconds before recomposing himself. When he finally stopped hacking, he didn’t look so confident anymore. He looked….troubled. He looked like he really didn’t care who his tutor was anymore, as long as it wasn’t Marco Bott.

 

“Armin’s fine,” he managed in a hoarse voice, leaving me more curious about his history with Marco than ever before.

 

“Wonderful,” Mr. Pixis said, ignoring Jean’s borderline meltdown. “Let’s set up some times after school that would work for you both, sound good?”

 

Jean nodded slowly, his face still ghostly white. _Jean Kirstein, you’re an enigma,_ I thought to myself.

 

_And I want to figure you out._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All of the things that I want to say  
> just aren't coming out right.  
> I'm tripping on words,  
> you got my head spinning;  
> I don't know where to go from here."  
> -You And Me, Lifehouse

Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. I was gonna be tutored by the mushroom who’s practically Jaeger’s lapdog? I couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than that, really. And I’d experienced a lot of embarrassing shit.

 

Middle school was an embarrassing time, for example.

 

Let me get one thing straight with you right off the bat, because I’m a straightforward kinda guy. If I want you to know something, I’m gonna say it. Not only am I straightforward person, but I also happen to _be_ straight. As in, I am heterosexual. That’s…what I wanted to tell you.

 

A lot of shit happened in middle school, okay? And if you asked fucking Eren Jaeger or fucking Connie Springer, they’d give you a half-assed, second-hand account of that situation, painting me as homo of the century. No no no, you see, they’re _wrong._ Listen to me. Shit happened, and maybe you can know the full story someday, but all you need to know right now is that I’m _probably_ not gay. Probably.

 

Good, now that we’ve got that sorted out, we can move the fuck on. This tutoring gig was gonna be a gigantic pain in my ass, and I was already dreading it. I didn’t even _want_ to be in this god-forsaken class in the first place. Pixis asked me why I didn’t want to drop, and since he definitely wouldn’t care about the fact that my snobbish, arrogant excuse for a father was forcing me to major in chemical engineering, wherein you basically _have_ to take these kind of math courses, I just told him I “needed it for my major.”

 

It was a half fib. I didn’t care, though. Pixis gave less shits about me than my father, and I was perfectly okay with lying, so the whole situation worked out.

 

Which leaves me here, in my room, with an open Calculus textbook sprawled across the floor, its pages bent and pressed against the each other. I didn’t even remember throwing it like that, but I _did_ remember not knowing how to even _begin_ this Complex Analysis assignment.

 

Godammit, my anger issues were even worse than Jaeger’s.

 

 _Jaeger._ Before this year, that little bitch popping into my head alone was bad enough. Now, that little shroom head likes to make an appearance in my mind right along with him, and I just _cannot_ comprehend how a smart kid like that would even consider befriending someone of Eren Jaeger’s type. Maybe I would get it out of him someday, though, because judging by the way things were currently going for me in Calculus, I was going to be spending a lot of time with him.

 

Not that I wanted to, like, get to know him or anything. I didn’t need a new friend. I’m better off without them, really; and I’ve learned that from personal experience.

 

.x.

 

_“It’ll just be a learning experience for us both, I guess,” I shrugged lightly against Marco’s frame, where he held me close. We stood behind the chalky brick walls at Trost Middle School, embracing each other in a state of desperation and need. I sighed into his windbreaker, wondering why the hell this felt so right._

_“But…Jean,” Marco’s grip loosened on me, and he brought his gaze down to look at me. “I thought…well, you said you didn’t want anyone to know about…you…being...”_

_“I…I don’t, really,” I frowned, knowing that my words were hurting Marco. “I just…listen, my dad wouldn’t be okay with it, but I still want it, and I think I really like you a lot, but—“_

_“I’m scared, too,” Marco finished my thought, and I lifted my gaze to meet his. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, though, but rather at something that seemed far, far away. He rested his chin on my forehead, and my stomach filled with butterflies. “But we can help each other through it. You and me. Neither of us are alone anymore, Jean.”_

_“Yeah,” I agreed. Marco always knew how to make me feel better; he always knew just what to say. Hell, I think he knew me even better than I knew myself._

 

.x.

 

I let out a long sigh, not bothering to suppress the distressed audibility of it. I should probably finish my homework. I forced myself out of bed and trudged over to pick up my mildly-damaged textbook. I shrugged, deciding that I didn’t give a fuck if I ruined it even more in the future.

 

After school tomorrow would be my first tutoring session with Armin, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a _little_ bit motivated to get my grade up in that class. After all, when the only other junior in the class is getting an A with ease, it only makes me feel like even more of a dumbass. And trust me, I always feel like a dumbass. Especially in a senior class.

 

I decided that this Complex Analysis assignment was a lost cause, and tucked the work I had done so far into my textbook before shutting it with a thud. _I’ll worry about it tomorrow,_ I thought, pulling out my history homework. History was a breeze for me, which was surprising, because I don’t think any class had ever been a breeze for me. Ever. I wasn’t sure whether I liked it because it was easy for me or if it was easy for me because I liked it, but I didn’t care either way, and ran with the A I was easily earning.

 

After finishing history, which took about thirty minutes, I looked at the clock. It was already 10:30. As if on cue, I let out a big yawn, stretching my arms and relishing the feeling of my bones cracking as I leaned back. I wasn’t sure if my parents were home yet, and frankly, I didn’t really give a fuck. Therefore, I hastily washed up and threw on some sweatpants and a hoodie before hopping into bed, trying to forget about everything that was on my mind.

 

.x.

 

_When Marco and I kissed for the first time, it felt different than I thought it would. I knew it would be nice, and I knew his lips would be super fucking soft, but, in my head, I had this whole lame, elaborate scene scripted out. I wouldn’t outright admit it, but I imagined it as really romantic and…well, intimate.  I never imagined it being something so impulsive, something so urgent, something so…amazing._

_It was the summer going into eighth grade. We were walking home after a group hangout with some of our other friends, and we were silent for most of it. The truth was, things had been pretty tense between us lately. Why, you may ask? We weren’t totally sure of that ourselves, to be honest._

_It was something that grew gradually over time, but suddenly there came a day where it wasn’t so hidden anymore. Suddenly, there came a day where it was pretty obvious to both of us that we had some weird, more-than-friend feelings for each other, and it freaked me the fuck out. I mean, it was something I literally would lose sleep over because it was so confusing. I assumed Marco was dealing with the same shit, and I felt bad, because it really sucked. I wasn’t worth that emotional strain, and that was for goddamn sure._

_Those unspoken feelings suffocated all of our interactions for what felt like forever, and it was beginning to wear us both down. Marco had been my best friend since fifth grade, and suddenly we were growing apart because we were beginning to experience romantic feelings for each other? Not on my fucking watch. Not if Jean Kirstein had a say in it. I don’t know where my confidence came from, but when we got to Marco’s street, I was certain of two things:_

  1. _I liked Marco Bott. A lot._
  2. _Marco Bott liked me. Probably just as much._



_So I didn’t think of anything else besides those two truths. Those two things that I just fucking_ knew. _I stopped dead in my tracks, my face flushing pink with anticipation of what I was about to do._

_“J-Jean?” Marco spoke for the first time this entire walk, his mouth parted slightly. “Are you okay?”_

_“Fine,” I mumbled, surprised I was forming coherent words. “Listen, Marco…” I didn’t finish my thought; I didn’t know how to. Actions speak louder than words, they say._

_I took three long strides towards Marco, closing the gap between us until it barely existed. He had hit a small growth spurt at the beginning of the summer, leaving me about two inches shorter. That didn’t faze me, though. I looked him dead in the eye, the scowl never leaving my face. Marco’s eyes widened, probably thinking I was about to bitch him out for something. Oh, how wrong he was._

_Trying my best to be gentle, I secured my hands on either side of his face and brought my lips to his. He made a small, surprised whimper in the back of his throat, but didn’t back away. His arms were frozen at his sides for a moment before he melted into the kiss, bringing his hands up to rest them lightly on my waist. The kiss was chaste, sweet, and over in less than ten seconds._

_We were both blushing like maniacs when we pulled away, and things would never be the same._

.x.

My fucking alarm went off when it felt like I had just fallen asleep. I let out a guttural groan, tugging my comforter over my head and curling up on my side. _Do I really have to fucking go to school today?_ I heard my door creak open, and I let a few profanities slip out under my breath as I anticipated what was coming.

 

“Jean, sweetie,” my mother hummed after turning my alarm off, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. I was still under the blanket, stubbornly curled up and defiant against starting the day, so I didn’t answer her.

 

“You need to get up now, Jean. It’s Friday!” She shook me lightly, which made me groan and envelope myself even tighter in my comforter.

 

“Jean—”

 

“Mom!” I barked instinctually, my gruff voice muffled by my pillow. “I’m getting up, you don’t need to wake me!”

 

She retracted her hand, sighing. I didn’t hear her footsteps leaving my room, but when I finally built up the strength to emerge from my blanketed cocoon, I was greeted by an empty room. I huffed, slumping over a little. It felt like my temper often had control over me, or maybe I was just too weak to control it. Either way, no one would believe me when I say this, but I really didn’t like hurting my mom’s feelings…it just seemed to happen a lot.

 

I pulled my legs over the side of my bed, hesitating a little before placing my bare feet on the cold, wooden floor. Rubbing sleepiness out of my eyes, I padded to bathroom, where I spent all of five minutes washing up to look presentable for school. I gave myself one last look in the mirror, despising what I saw, before trudging downstairs.

 

My mom had buttered some toast for me, and I wrapped it up in foil before walking to her room. Maybe actually saying goodbye to her before I left for school today would atone for my shitty behavior towards her when she woke me up. I’ve never been one to openly apologize about anything, so this small act of redemption was the best it was gonna get.

 

I spotted her in her bathroom, applying some mascara to her eyelashes. “I’m, uh, leaving now.”

 

She gave me a small smile. “Bye, Jean. Have a nice day at school. Be careful driving.”

 

“Yeah. I will.” I nodded at her before walking back into the kitchen and slung my bag over my shoulder. No way in hell was I gonna say bye to my father today, or ever. That was for damn sure.

 

I grabbed the keys to my BMW and slipped on a beanie to keep my head warm before heading out the door. It was only the end of October, but it felt like fucking January to me. I hustled to my car and turned the heat on impatiently, blowing on my hands to keep them warm.

 

.x.

 

All in all, it was just another shitty day at school. I didn’t really have any friends besides Mike and his two dumb minions, and I only hung out with them because, well, assholes attract. That’s a saying, right? Either way, a piece of shit like me can only get piece of shit friends, so I chilled with Mike. I didn’t like him, though; that’s where I differed from his gang. I thought he was the biggest douche on planet Earth, frankly. Like, maybe not as bad as Jaeger, but pretty damn bad.

 

I wasn’t about to go around throwing the word faggot at people, especially people who didn’t even deserve it. Yeah, I’m an asshole, but I pick my fights; I don’t jump into them on a daily basis. Mike _loved_ doing shit like that though, so I just hung back like an awkward loser who literally doesn’t even fit in with his own friends.

 

Mike was in “that” kind of mood today, unfortunately. The kind of mood where he wanted to start a scene. Mikasa wasn’t in school today, either, so he was able to shove Armin in a locker without caring about any immediate consequences. Jaeger wasn’t around at the time, and he didn’t scare him much, anyways.

 

Armin trembled under Mike’s fat hands, which were pinning him forcefully to the wall. I glanced down at the floor, pretending I wasn’t seeing any of it. Which was a really shitty thing to do, because how could you even _pretend_ not to see—or hear—this?

 

“Where are your friends, you little shit? Huh? No one is here to protect you now.”

 

Armin’s face twisted into a hybrid of hurt and fear, his hands trying their best to pry Mike off of him. Mike taunted him, loosening his hold on the kid before shoving him back into the wall with ten times more force than before. This went on for a few minutes, and Mike made sure to both physically _and_ verbally degrade him. Then, I made a horrible mistake.

 

I looked up.

 

I looked up to see what was going on when Armin made a rather loud, fearful whimper, and it was then that we made _direct_ eye contact. Mind you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. No, it had happened once before, but I brushed it off that time. This time, though, I couldn’t shake it off so easily. I couldn’t shake his pleading eyes, filled with humiliation and hopelessness. They screamed at me to help, as loud as a set of eyes could possibly scream.

 

I ripped my gaze away after a few seconds of staring. I knew that was the wrong thing to do, though, and my conscience felt shitty about it. When something weighs on my conscience, it’s a big deal, because I usually give zero shits about absolutely everything. Even though I felt bad about not doing something for Armin, purely feeling bad just wasn’t enough for me to actually do something. So, I just stood there, my gaze glued to the floor, and waited for Mike to finally be done with this shit.

 

Until something pushed me a little too far.

 

Mike had said it a bunch of times before to him. Like, a _bunch._ And I never let it really bother me. Like now, I would just curl my toes and wait for it to be over. But today, it really fucking set me off.

 

“Faggot,” he spit, practically shoving Armin through the damn lockers. “You’re a little faggot.”

 

It was that word. _Faggot._ Hearing it snarled at someone when they were in such a vulnerable position, when they really didn’t deserve it…it struck a chord in me. A chord that I often forget about, because there’s a lot of shit in my life I’m trying to forget about. Something about the way Armin was hovering away from his oppressor in his own weakness, the way he was being tantalized with that word with so many negative connotations…It made me remember a particular night that still haunts me to this day. 

 

I shuddered. That was it. “Mike,” I barked, whipping my head up towards him. “Dude, let’s leave him alone.”

 

It wasn’t particularly heroic or eloquent, what I said, but it surprisingly did the trick. Mike loosened his grip on Armin’s sweater, leaving him to recoil into the wall with that same paled expression of fear on his face, as though he were afraid Mike would throw one last punch at him.

 

“You’re right, the little fag’s not worth it.” He said with a crude snort of laughter. My jaw clenched, and my fists tightened at my sides. I shoved them into my pockets so no one would see how angry I was at this fucking ape.

 

Mike strode away, mumbling something about going to the cafeteria to eat some lunch. Fatass. I hung back for a minute, my hands still awkwardly tucked in my pockets. Armin was slowly recollecting himself and recovering from the attack. Trembling fingers combed through his tangled hair, and he sniffed a little as straightened out his sleeves. I didn’t know if I should say something to him or what, but either way, I didn’t want to walk away with Mike after what just went down.

 

In the end, I shot him one last glance, shrugging a little before I spun on my heel and trudged away. Normally, I would follow Mike wherever he went off to after something like this, but today I was just fed up with his shit. I decided that going to the library wouldn’t be such a bad idea, so there I went. I didn’t even have any more homework to do, considering it was Friday, but, I’ll say it again; I didn’t have other friends to hang out with.

 

.x.

 

By the time the day was over, I had kind of forgotten about the whole ordeal with Mike. Or, at least, I tried to _pretend_ I had forgotten about it, considering I Armin was gonna be tutoring me in about ten minutes. I didn’t want things to be awkward or anything, and I sure as hell didn’t want him to thank me for stepping in.

 

Wait, what the hell? I didn’t deserve to be thanked. I only stopped Mike because something he said pissed _me_ off, not because I felt bad for Armin or anything. Jeez, Jean, get the hell over yourself.

 

We were supposed to meet in the library, so I began my slow trudge there. Knowing Armin, I bet he’d already be there, waiting for me. Punctual little shit.

 

When I pushed open the door, my hypothesis was proved correct. Armin was sitting at a table already, his sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his math textbook open. When he saw me, he offered a small, slightly uncomfortable smile. I nodded at him, my expression stern as usual, and made my way to the table, sitting down across from him.

 

“What’s with your hair?” I said the first thing that came to my mind in a failed attempt to avoid any awkward silence. I had no filter, I really didn’t.

 

Armin flushed, his hand going up to touch the small, high ponytail his blond hair was pulled into. “I always tie my hair up when I study…” he mumbled, looking embarrassed. I didn’t know why his face got all red; it was just a simple question. Then again, I was a pretty dense dickhead, so I had probably insulted him or something.

 

“Oh,”

 

It was silent for a moment after that. I pulled out my math binder to busy myself and opened it, ready to learn some shit. Armin saw me look at him expectedly, and coughed.

 

“Alright, let’s get started. I think a good idea for today would be to just go over the test we got back and you can ask any questions you have.” He played with his fingers a lot when he talked, and I wondered if I was making him nervous.

 

“Sounds good,” I said, pulling out my test. The red _55_ circled in the top corner hit me with a huge wave of stress. _How the hell was I supposed to come back from this?_ Also, fuck Pixis for writing the damn grade so it covered like, half the page.

 

Armin took a discreet glance at my test, but I didn’t see any judgment flash through his eyes. In fact, it looked more like he was scanning what I had gotten wrong so he knew how to help me, not just harping on my god-awful score. “Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s get started.”

 

.x.

 

“No, no, but that’s almost right,” Armin said with all the patience in the world. “Remember, L’Hopital’s rule is used to find the limit of a quotient, not a product.”

 

“Oh, right. Fuck.” My brain was killing me. This tutoring session was now running at an hour and a half, and Armin and I were the last students in the library. We had almost made it through the entire test, and Armin wasn’t even half bad as a tutor. I mean, honestly, he explained things better than Pixis, and I would totally nail that test if I had the opportunity to take it again.

 

“Yeah, it can be really confusing,” Armin sympathized, even though he probably understood this shit when he was eight years old. “Also, you didn’t rearrange the equation correctly down here…the final rationale isn’t simplified right.”

 

“How the fuck do I simplify a rationale?” I groaned, rubbing at my temples.

 

“You know how to do this, Jean. We’ve been simplifying rationales for the past fifteen minutes.” Armin encouraged, leaning back in his chair to let me figure it out myself.

 

I chewed on the tip of my pencil, wracking my brain to remember how to solve this damn thing. I finally jogged my memory and scribbled my work down frantically, even though I wasn’t even completely sure I was doing it right. I gave the paper one last glance-over before anxiously handing it over to Armin to check it.

 

It was silent for the next minute while he skimmed my work. I tapped my foot impatiently, eager to see if I could at least do one thing right. Finally, Armin handed the sheet back to me and nodded his head.

 

“Perfect! You solved that perfectly.” He gave me a smile, and I felt a grin tugging at my lips. I tried to force it down, though, and pumped my fist triumphantly.

 

“Really? Sweet.” After admiring my work one last time, I yawned, leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes. “My brain hurts.”

 

“We only have one page left of the test to work through…but I’ve taught you a lot for today. Let’s call it a quits. Would you be available to finish it Monday after school?”

 

“Yeah, Monday would work.” I said, surprisingly not even completely dreading our next session.

 

“Okay, sounds good!” Armin packed up his backpack and slung it over his shoulders. “Good work today, Jean!” He said his goodbyes to me, and turned to walk away. However, before he left, he spun back on his heel to face me. His face looked nervous, like he was building up the courage to tell me something. I eyed him curiously.

 

“Oh, also, um,” he added, his voice trembling as he spoke. “Thanks for, um…thanks for telling Mike to back off today.”

 

I froze, my pencil slipping through my fingers and hitting the table with a clatter. I hadn’t been expecting him to thank me, seeing as we had gotten through the entire session without mentioning it. I hoped he _wouldn’t,_ to be honest, but here I was, my mouth hanging open dumbly and my mind having no idea how to respond to such an undeserved thanks.

 

“Oh, um…” I scratched the back of my neck. “Don’t…don’t mention it.” I said, because I _didn’t_ want him to mention it. My words held a double meaning, you see.

 

Armin smiled, his face tinted pink. “Well, I’ll see you Monday, then. Have a nice weekend!”

 

“Yeah,” I gave a small wave as he turned to walk away, feeling…strange. I ignored those weird feelings and threw my books into my bag, eager to get the hell out of this place.

 

To be honest, I felt a little…relieved. That hadn’t been as horrible as I thought it would be, and Armin wasn’t as much as a loser as I had initially pegged him as. Yeah, he was still a nerd at its finest, but…he was helping me out. He was helping me out even though I’ve acted like nothing but shit to him.

 

But I hoped he wouldn’t expect me to keep helping him out like that. No, I couldn’t just jump in and save the day whenever Armin was being harassed by my dickhead friends. Eren and Mikasa would do that. I didn’t like it, but who the fuck else was I supposed to hang around with? I was done being a loner. Those days were over.

 

I’d just have to try and convince Mike that Armin wasn’t worth being a cock to, or our tutoring sessions would get really awkward really fast. Especially when Armin just fucking _thanked_ me like that.

 

I sighed, deciding I would worry about this another time. For now, it was the weekend, and I was more than ready to forget about all the shit that had been thrown my way the past few days. I sped home in record timing and, thankful my parents had gone out tonight, went straight to bed, not even bothering to eat dinner.

 

.x.

 

_“So, is this like, real? You and me?” Marco looked at me with those round, adorable brown eyes, and the excitement in his voice made my heart melt. It was the beginning of eighth grade, and we were lying next to each other in Marco’s backyard, staring at the stars._

_“Of course, dummy,” I tousled his hair with my fingers, and he laughed under my touch, swatting my hands away from him. We jokingly pushed each other around for a moment, but then the laughter eventually died down._

_“You don’t want anyone to know, do you?” He asked quietly, looking straight at the sky. My heart clenched. I didn’t need to give him an answer; he already knew what I would say. When I stayed silent, he turned to face me._

_“I know. I know why you don’t want to tell people. We don’t need to if you don’t want.” I could tell he was trying so hard to be optimistic about it, but it only left me feeling like an even shittier person._

_“I will someday, Marco,” I sighed, feeling crushed under the weight of this entire situation. “I just…really can’t right now.” I choked, and Marco took my hand in his._

_“It’s okay, Jean. I’ll wait.” he said soothingly, so genuine that it made my heart melt._

_“No, it’s not okay. Not right now,” I sighed. “But it will be. Marco, I’ll tell my parents about us soon. I’ll tell them everything. And no matter what they say, it won’t change a thing about us, I promise.” I said honestly, praying that I would build up the courage to come out to them soon enough._

_Marco smiled at me, but didn’t say anything. He just looked at me with those big brown eyes and didn’t break his gaze for a long time. It even looked like there was a hint of…sadness in them. Like he knew what was coming._

_Like he knew how wrong I was about us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was the first chapter with jean's pov, and i hope you liked it! im really eager to put this chapter up, so i havent gone through and editted it yet! :( therefore, if youre reading this right after it was posted, im really sorry for any typos! let me know if theres anything really major, hahaha
> 
> thanks for reading, guys! you rock!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "First time that I saw your eyes,  
> boy, you looked right through me.  
> Play it cool but I knew you knew  
> that Cupid hit me."  
> ~Clumsy, Fergie

The tutoring session with Jean went…well. Better than I thought it would go, anyways. If I were being honest, I had expected him to make wisecracks at me the entire time, and I definitely didn’t expect much productivity. I was surprised, though, because I could tell that he actually _wanted_ to learn this material, so just knowing that was enough to make me want to help him. As for the wisecracks, he _did_ comment on my hair being pulled back, but I could look past that.

 

It was a bit of an internal struggle throughout the entire session as I decided whether or not I wanted to thank Jean for helping me out with Mike earlier that day. As I left, I decided that it would be better if I just kept quiet about it to save us some awkwardness. My big mouth, apparently, had other plans. I blurted out a hasty ‘thank you’ before I could stop myself, and Jean froze, his mouth hanging open in unprepared shock. That was about the time I started mentally smacking myself in the face because of how much of an idiot I was. I made him uncomfortable, and now he didn’t even know what to say to me. Great job, Armin, you geek.

 

“Don’t…don’t mention it,” he said after a moment of thought, and I sensed both the figurative and literal meaning behind his words.

 

My heart lightened at his response, though, and I felt a smile spread across my face. I can’t remember exactly what I said to him; some form of goodbye that was probably really lame and nerdy. I do remember, though, walking out of the library feeling like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. All this time, I had been so nervous about tutoring Jean, about how much he would probably bully me and make fun of me. Instead, I get…this. What even was “this”, exactly? I don’t know. But it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all.

 

I hurried to my car in the brisk October evening, my fingers fumbling with the keys to unlock it. I checked my phone and saw that Eren had texted me and few hours ago asking if I wanted to hang out at his house for a while. I smiled at the screen before typing out a reply.

 

**To: Eren**

Sure, I just got done tutoring Jean! I’ll be over soon :)

 

I didn’t wait for his response, but rather tossed my phone to the passenger seat and started the engine. I fiddled with the radio as the car heated up, wishing I had brought some mittens with me. Finally, when I could feel my fingers again, I peeled out of my parking space and headed to Eren’s house. He only lived about eight minutes away from me, so we hung out a lot. They lived in a nice, white house (not as large as the Kirstein’s, but still bigger than mine) with a lovely patio that Eren, Mikasa and I would spend our summer days in. I smiled at the memories, relishing all of the good times I’ve had at the Jaeger house over the years.

 

Eren’s dad was never around much. In fact, I’ve only met the guy once or twice. He didn’t talk about it often, and it’s something he seems really bitter over. Mrs. Jaeger is always around, though, and from the looks of it, Eren has a close relationship with her. To me, she’s like the mother I never had, so it’s always nice to see her when I got over to the Jaeger’s.

 

I never probe Eren about the deal with his father, even though he knows everything about _my_ parent situation, but maybe I’m just an open book. More open than Eren. I could wait, though. I could wait for my best friend.

 

I pulled into Eren’s driveway slowly, not taking any chances ever since that time Eren and I almost killed his neighbor’s cat turning into the driveway too quickly. I didn’t see any cars besides Eren’s, so he was probably home alone. I sent him a quick text that I was in his driveway before walking up to the door, rubbing my hands together rapidly to stay warm.

 

“Hey, Armin,” Eren greeted me at the steps in a hoodie and sweatpants, his hair disheveled and his eyes droopy. “Sorry, I just took a nap.” He explained to supplement his interesting appearance.

 

I giggled. “Aw, I could use one of those. This has been the longest week of my life.”

 

Eren stretched his arms back. “It was pretty nice.” He bragged, yawning. We strolled into his house and sat down on the small island in his kitchen. He poured me some water and pulled out a bag of Goldfish, leaning towards me from across the counter. “How was tutoring the dickhead?”

 

I stifled a laugh, but then suddenly felt guilty. _He’s not so bad,_ I thought instinctually, before I realized what just went through my mind. That was…strange. Jean _was_ a dick. He’s proved that multiple times at this point. _Agree with him, Armin._ I urged myself. _Just agree with him like you usually would._

I’ve always been a really bad liar, though, so I didn’t even try anymore. That’s why it didn’t surprise me when I spoke before I even thought about what I was saying, and I didn’t fight it. The words flowed freely, and I said exactly what I was thinking.

 

“It wasn’t bad,” I fiddled with some loose strands of hair that had fallen from my ponytail, afraid I sounded like I was disagreeing with Eren over something major; over something really important to him. I braced myself for angry Eren.

 

“Wait, what? Really?” His head snapped up to look at me, but to my relief, he didn’t really look angry. He looked…intrigued. Interested. I bit my lip, unsure if I should tell him the whole story, or just the how the tutoring session went. I decided he might as well know everything, because, as I’ve said before, I’m a bit of an open book when it comes to things like this.

 

Eren never once looked away from me as I retold the whole story; starting from Jean calming Mike down into the hallway and right up until I thanked him for doing so at the end of the tutor session. As I talked—and, admittedly, I was talking quite nervously—I searched Eren’s face for signs of disapproval. When he squinted his eyes at me and I sensed like he didn’t like what I was saying (perhaps I was talking a little too nicely about the kid he considered to be scum), my talking sped up, and I tried to over-explain everything so there was no possible way Eren would get the wrong idea. About anything. Typical Armin. When I finished explaining everything, I was out of breath and sunk in my stool, waiting for Eren’s response.

 

“I wish I was there when Mike shoved you into the lockers.” He said finally, and I strained to hear a trace of emotion in his voice. All I heard was restrained anger.

 

“It was, uh, it was fine. Nothing he hasn’t done before...” I trailed off before I tried to over-explain myself again.

 

“So, Kirstein stepped right in and stopped him? Like, physically?” Eren questioned, even though I was certain he already knew the answer to that.

 

“He just told Mike to leave me alone.” I supplied weakly, knowing where this was going. I knew Eren wasn’t mad at _me,_ but I also knew he was exercising a considerable amount of will power to not lash out at something, whether that something was myself or the nearest wall. I still appreciated his patience in the situation, though. Even if it was through gritted teeth.

 

“So he let Mike put his hands on you? He just let it happen before he decided it _maybe_ wasn’t right?”

 

“Eren…”

 

“Armin, I’m not mad at you,” he cut me off, and I knew that him saying this meant he was about to say something harsh. “But Jean Kirstein is a prick. He did one, semi-decent thing today, but I guarantee that was only in _his_ self-interest. The fact that he didn’t tease you at the tutor session was the same deal; self-interest.”

 

That stung. I didn’t say anything back, though; I just stared at Eren as he spoke, trying to prevent my injured feelings from filtering their way through the calm expression I was feigning.

 

“Don’t get involved with him, Armin.” He instructed. “You don’t know him like I do. You don’t wanna hang around with a kid like Kirstein, trust me.”

 

I twisted my legs around the chair pegs, chewing on the inside of my cheek and pondering how I should respond to this. I knew Eren was only looking out for me, and he _had_ known Jean a much longer time, but deep down, a really small part of me wanted to give him a chance. It was the same part of me that felt Jean wasn’t as bad as he seemed on the surface. After all, he clearly didn’t fit in with Mike and his friends, and he’s never actually participated in any bullying. I knew I was being too easy on someone who still treated me like a jerk, but there was something about Jean that I was….inexplicably _drawn_ to. I just wanted to figure him out, because he always presented himself as just your average, well, douchebag. But I _knew_ he was more complex than that. There were layers to that boy, and I wanted to know them all.

 

I couldn’t tell Eren that, though. Not unless I wanted him to go over to the Kirstein’s house right now and beat Jean to a pulp.

 

“I know, Eren. I won’t…” I mumbled finally, allowing a bit of reluctance to make its way into my tone so he would know I didn’t _completely_ agree with him. It was a subtle disagreement; a way to show Eren how I felt without bluntly saying it. Being my best friend, though, Eren noticed. His expression softened a bit, and when he spoke, his tone was gentle.

 

“I just think it would be best for you,” he explained when he took in my fallen features. I nodded slightly, not wanting to hurt Eren when he was only doing what he thought was best for me. I gave him a small smile in response, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. We sat in silence for a moment, until Eren finally dropped the subject.

 

“Come on, Arm. Let’s pick out a movie to watch.”

 

.x.

 

I ended up sleeping over Eren’s that night, and we were both too tired to stay up late. Therefore, we fell asleep on his couch during the movie, my head resting on Eren’s shoulder and his head leaning back on the couch. Personally, I found it rather comfortable, but Eren woke up with a stiff neck.

 

“I don’t even remember drifting off,” he mumbled sleepily, standing up from the couch.

 

“Eren, noooo,” I whined as he tried to pry me off of him, my eyes still shut. “Your shoulder is really comfortable…” I sighed happily, feeling very well rested.

 

“Glad you had a good night’s sleep, princess,” he joked, and I pouted at him.

 

I was still in my clothes from school yesterday, and I grimaced when I looked down at myself. My sweater was wrinkled and my pants felt uncomfortable after having slept in them. I frowned, wishing I had brought a comfy pair of sweatpants. An idea struck me.

 

“Eren, do you have some extra clothes I could borrow?”

 

His expression changed briefly to something I couldn’t read. Embarrassed, maybe? I considered retracting my request if it made him that uncomfortable, even though this wouldn’t be the first time we’ve shared clothes. However, his face returned to normal as quickly as it had changed, and he nodded. “Yeah, I’ll grab you some.”

 

While he was upstairs in his room, my phone vibrated. I pulled it out and checked the screen, the words “1 Text from Marco Bott” flashing in bold letters. He was just asking me what our chemistry homework was, but his name was all I needed for my thoughts to be on Jean again. I typed out the problem numbers to him, considering throwing in a _“hey, btw, do you happen to know a Jean Kirstein? Did he have a crush on you or something haha???”_ at the end. I shook my head at the dumb idea and sent the assignment to him before I could add anything else.

 

Just as I slipped the phone back into my pocket, a ball of soft fabric collided with the side of my face. Eren laughed at the expression I made, bending over to pick up what he had thrown.

 

“Here,” he handed me a long-sleeved shirt and some fleece sweatpants to change into. _Yesssss._

 

“Thanks, Eren!” I hugged them to my chest and quickly padded into the bathroom, eager to change into something more comfortable.

 

“Y-you’re welcome,” I heard him say after I had already shut the bathroom door behind me, his words barely reaching my ears. _He sure is acting weird today,_ I thought idly, slipping into the clothes. Eren’s shoulders were broader than mine, so the shirt hung loosely off of my smaller ones. I had to roll the sweatpants up a few times to prevent them from falling down, too, but it didn’t take away from the comfort of the clothes. It added to them, if anything.

 

I stepped out of the bathroom and found Eren fishing through his cabinets, presumably searching for something we could eat. The sweatpants were too long for me, and the bottoms of them tucked under my feet as I made my way to the island.

 

“Need any help?” I asked while Eren’s head was shoved into the refrigerator. He startled, bumping his head on the ceiling of it.

 

“No, I’m fine! Sorry, didn’t see you there, Armin.” He laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “G-glad my clothes fit you.”

 

“They’re a little big for me,” I giggled, tugging the long sleeves up so they covered my hands. “But very comfortable!”

 

Eren gulped, smiling slightly in acknowledgment of what I said. “So, uh, what do you want for breakfast?”

 

We decided on just having cereal since neither of us felt like making anything, and ate in front of the TV. I enjoyed mornings like these; lazy mornings with my best friend. I only wished Mikasa was here with us, but Eren’s company was still enough for me. While the Saturday morning news proved to be particularly uneventful, I found myself staring outside.

 

I was a crisp October morning, and I could tell just by the looks of it that it was less than 45 degrees outside. The sky was gray and cloudy, and the last of the autumn leaves were slowly but surely loosening on the branches. I watched the black crows in Eren’s yard pick at any unlucky insects they found in the grass and laughed when his neighbor’s cat flew into his yard to chase them away.

 

In the midst of observing, something caught my eye. It was Jean Kirstein, walking his dog past the house. He was heavily bundled up, so it must’ve been even colder than I predicted. He wore a red beanie on his head and gripped the dog leash loosely in his gloved hands. I stared in wonder for a moment, taking in every detail about his distant appearance, before I instinctually nudged Eren to look. When he saw, he rolled his eyes and told me he always saw Jean walking his dog on the weekends; that his mom probably paid him $50 to do it as a chore.

 

“Do they really have that much money?” I asked with wide eyes.

 

“Psh, they really do,” Eren said bitterly.

 

I watched Jean’s figure until he was out of the window frame. I waited for a few minutes longer, wondering if he would turn around and walk back into my view, but he didn’t. I wondered why I cared so much. Why _did_ I care so much? I finally tore my eyes away and focused on finishing the last bites of cereal, which had grown soggy from sitting in the milk for such a long time.

 

.x.

 

I left Eren’s at noontime, which was when Alice wanted me home around. I took the long route out of his neighborhood, driving by the Kirstein’s once before I left. Their lawn, as always, looked ‘pristine’. I sighed and turned up the radio, hoping loud music would drown out my chaotic train of thought.

 

When I got back to my house, Alice was home, doing the taxes. She greeted me with a warm smile, pushing her wire-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose as she lifted her head up to meet my gaze.

 

“I was just about to text you when you would be home! You didn’t tell me you were sleeping over Eren’s last night.”

 

“Sorry, Mom,” I sighed, even though I knew she wasn’t actually mad at me. “I thought I’d come home last night, but we both fell asleep on the couch watching a movie.”

 

Alice raised an eyebrow. “Was Mikasa there with you guys, too?”

 

I cocked my head at her, not entirely sure why that would matter. “Nope, uh, just me and Eren.”

 

“You guys are very close,” she observed with inquiring eyes. They glimmered slightly under the kitchen lights; they almost had a certain charm about them.

 

I squinted at her. “He’s my best friend,” I said slowly, making sure I didn’t sound like I was snapping at her. Alice surely suspected I was gay, and she also surely suspected that Eren and I were in a super-secret relationship. The thought of that honestly made me laugh, because even though _I_ was probably gay, Eren most definitely wasn’t. Plus, like I mentioned, he’s my best friend. I got over my weird crush on him, like, freshman year.

 

“I’m glad you two have each other,” Alice said with the same glimmer in her eyes. I would definitely have to set her straight (no pun intended) about this someday, but for now, I was too tired and needed a shower. Therefore, I rolled my eyes and trudged upstairs, ignoring her teasing squeeze on my shoulder.

 

.x.

 

I walked into the library after school that Monday to share some information with Jean before we started our tutoring session.

 

“Hey, Jean,” I said quietly once I sat down. He glanced at the ponytail on top of my head briefly before locking eyes with me, and I continued. “Um, so, I just talked with Mr. Pixis, and he said we have a really important chapter five test coming up this week.”

 

“Okay?” Jean said, questioning the relevance of what I was saying. “You’ll just have to keep tutoring me, right?”

 

“That’s…not all.” I said, suddenly feeling nervous. I folded my hands and tucked them on my lap so I wouldn’t keep fidgeting with them. “So, the library closes at 3:45, right? Well, Mr. Pixis said we should probably start….tutoring at someone’s house….so we wouldn’t have the time restraint. And you need to ace that test, so we need to have longer sessions anyways.”

 

Jean’s expression paled. His signature, cocky smirk fell from his face and an expression akin to fear struck his features. I wondered what he was so nervous about, considering his house was nicer than any house I’d ever seen in my life. I stayed silent while he worked things out in his head, unable to think of anything to say. Jean’s brows were tightly knit together, and he slowly raised his head up to meet my gaze.

 

“We can go to my house, yeah,” he choked out, straining to sound normal. I didn’t want to question him about why he was acing so strange. I mean, the two of us weren’t even friends, and since he just said himself that we could go to his house, I just nodded and dropped the subject, moving right on to his lesson. Jean tried to jump back into it, too, but something seemed really off. I had to explain little things to him multiple times, and I got the sense that there was something pressing on his mind. I couldn’t prod, though. He would surely just come back with a snarky comment about how I should stay out of his business.

 

“Jean. Jean?” I waved my hand in front of his face. He had been working on the same problem for ten minutes, and I couldn’t ignore his abstract behavior any longer.

 

“What?” He almost snapped, frowning at me. I retracted my hand instantly, more nerves overtaking my composure.

 

“Do you need any help?” I asked, avoiding saying directly: _“you’ve been spacing out like a weirdo this entire session, what the hell is wrong with you?”_

“No,” he waved me away. “I can figure it out.”

 

I sighed, leaning into my palm and waiting for him to finish. It was clear that this session wasn’t going to be as productive as last time, and I wanted to know what was bothering Jean so much. I brought my hands back to tie my ponytail again, and Jean’s eyes flashed up to meet me, his gaze lingering on the elastic in my mouth before his head snapped back down to his work again. He drummed his pencil frantically on the table and tapped his foot against the chair leg. _That was strange._

 

After what seemed like another ten minutes, Jean sighed. “I don’t get this shit,” he admitted, leaning back and tugging his beanie over his eyes.

 

“That’s okay,” I answered, trying to contain my excitement over the fact that we were finally making some progress. “What don’t you understand?”

 

“I just….honestly? Nothing, Armin,” he admitted. Hearing my name come out of his mouth was foreign, and the happy sensation it gave me went into my ears all the way down my spine. I tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal, though, because it was just a name. It was just _my_ name. Who cared it Jean said it?

 

“Alright,” I started, throwing myself into professional-tutor mode. “Something that would make this problem easier is if you divided it up, since there are two parts…” I scooted closer to Jean so I could get a good look at his test, and he supplemented my action by leaning into me and nudging the exam into my view. Trying my best to ignore our close proximity (we weren’t even that close, really, but it got my heart beating a little faster, that’s for sure), I tried to forget about everything except Calculus.

 

“So, this is a minimum distance problem, right? These can be tricky, but you just need to understand how to solve them.” I explained, feeling like Captain Obvious. Jean was all ears, though, his eyes glued to the paper and his head nodding as he pondered what I told him.

 

“The easiest way to solve this one would be to find the distances d and D, add them, and then minimize the total distance….” I hesitantly reached for Jean’s pencil to show him how I would do the work, and, thankfully, he didn’t rip it away from me. He handed it to me, and I made sure our fingers didn’t brush as I took it from him. My palms were suddenly sweaty, and getting a good grip on the writing instrument seemed impossible.

 

“The total T distance is given by this equation,” I explained in a wobbly voice, scribbling down my work. Jean slowly nodded his head, and I hoped to God I was doing a good job showing him this. “So now we need to fin—” I was cut off.

 

“We need to find the derivative.” Jean breathed from next to me. It was almost like he didn’t even mean to say it in the first place; like he finished my thought instinctually. I grinned at his correct assumption and turned my head to look at him, but his gaze was still cast downwards at the test.

 

“Yeah,” I whispered, a little too impressed that he figured something out that really wasn’t very difficult when it came to Advanced Calculus. Nevertheless, I felt myself practically beaming at him. I hesitantly slid handed the pencil back to him and slid away from his test, letting him figure the rest out himself.

 

Jean actually looked up at me now, a restrained grin on his face that I could tell he was trying to hold down. He was probably just exciting that he actually figured something out on his own, but there was a genuine-seeming glimmer in his eyes when he looked at me.

 

“Thanks.” He nodded. It was a quick gesture, and he looked back down at his work just as quickly as he looked up, but it left my heart thumping. I wasn’t sure why, either, and it made me nervous. All I knew was that I wanted him to look at me a little longer. Maybe say “thanks, _Armin,”_ because I liked it when he said my name. I sighed at my dumb thoughts and watched Jean write out the rest of the problem.

 

“Is this right?” He asked after a minute of work. He slid the piece of paper to me and I gave it a quick glance-over before nodding enthusiastically at his correct answer. Jean smiled, now; a real, boyish smile that showed his teeth and stretched across his face.

 

“Really? Sweet!” He said the same thing as he had last session when he figured out a tough problem, but this time he said it with more enthusiasm. More excitement. More…personality. It was infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him as I watched his little celebration.

 

“That was the last problem on that test,” I said, happy that this session turned out as more productive than I thought it would be. Jean had calmed himself down a bit at this point, and I figured it was because he became conscious that his excitement was a little too uncharacteristic of a “cool kid” like himself. It was okay, though, because I just saw a glimpse of the real Jean, and it was adorable.

 

“Nice,” he said, and I knew he was more eager than his even tone let on.

 

“So, you said your house would work for tutoring?” I reminded, and his already serious expression dropped. It was as though I just reminded him of something terrible, and his eyes flew to the ground. I felt a pang of guilt, but had no idea what I did wrong.

 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, my house can work,” he mumbled, and his uneasiness about it was making me nervous. _What is it about his house that he doesn’t want me to see?_

I tried to be polite and ignore his abnormal reaction to this whole situation. “Okay, so….what day would work for our next session?”

 

“Here,” Jean said in a low voice, scribbling something down on a scrap piece of paper. “I don’t know right now. That’s my number, so you can, like, text me, and we can figure it out later.” Jean looked away as I picked the piece of paper from his hands, and I tried to hold in an excited giggle.

 

“Okay, sounds good!” I said, feeling like I was going to burst. Before I turned away, I glanced back at him and smiled. “Good work today, Jean.”

 

He looked a little pink. “Oh, yeah, thanks. Thanks for the help.” He said before I turned and left.

 

I exited the library and let the huge smile that had been tugging at my lips the entire time spread across my face. I don’t know what had come over me, or why I was so excited about getting Jean Kirstein’s number, but all I knew was that my heart didn’t beat this fast when I got Connie’s phone number this year. Or Marco’s phone number this year. Or Sasha’s. Or anyone’s. And it definitely didn’t beat this fast when I talked to just anyone.

 

Which is why I decided I should keep an eye on this kid. Because he made me feel this way, and it was horribly confusing, and a part of me didn’t even want it.

 

But really, another part was becoming addicted to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS BEEN SUCH A BUSY WEEK I CANT BELIEVE I BUSTED OUT 4.7K WORDS THAT is a lot for me ahahah my goal is 6k but that's just not happening right now. anyways! hope you guys liked this chapter. maybe not as exciting as the last, but i had a few things i needed to lay down. for plot development.  
> anyways! thank you all for reading and merry christmas & happy holidays! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So sick of this lonely air  
> It seems such a waste of breath  
> So much that I need to say  
> So much to get off my chest"  
> -Make It To Me, Sam Smith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who has no new years eve plans??? thats right, me. it appears my friends all had family parties tonight, which leaves me alone with MY family, who is currently at church right now. therefore, im left alone, so i decided to update! i didn't think i would actually get it up tonight, but i also didnt think it would be this short. its only 3.8k words, but i think it ended when it needed to end. 
> 
> things get a little more intense in this chapter, but i promise everything will be okay in the end!! this needs to happen for plot development, im sorry :((:((:(
> 
> hope you all have a great new years, and thank you all for the kudos, the reads, and all the lovely comments! 
> 
> also, this chapter is absolutely packed with dialogue, im sorry aahaha

On the surface of our friendship, it definitely looked like I was the one who constantly clung to Eren. That was true, too. I couldn’t even argue that. Well, really, it wasn’t that I _clung_ to him; it was more like I just followed him around in whatever he did. Lately, though, it felt like things had turned 180 degrees.

 

I noticed Eren becoming…possessive? No, surely that was the wrong word. Clingy? No, not that either. He had, in any case, developed a tendency to stay by my side at all times, and his temper had taken a turn for the worse. He was, to put it plainly, grumpier than usual, but it was nothing I couldn’t deal with as his best friend. Mikasa had definitely noticed it, too, and I couldn’t help but bring it up one afternoon while she was driving me home after we’d gone out to lunch.

 

The conversation started out as nothing, really; just the two of us talking about my tutoring with Jean, and how it wasn’t as horrible as I thought it would be. I felt like I could be much more open with Mikasa about this, because she didn’t harbor the same hatred towards him that Eren did. She was all ears, really, but in a different way than Eren was. She wasn’t searching my story for something to comment cryptically about; she was just there to hear me out on what I had to say. I slowly tried to weave in little comments about Eren being annoyed if I ever talked to him about this, until finally I just had to say it.  

 

“Eren’s been acting really weird lately.”

 

Mikasa kept her eyes on the road, one hand steadily guiding the wheel. She bit her bottom lip and nodded, perhaps feeling guilty about discussing Eren’s personality faults. Maybe not as guilty as I thought, though, because then she rolled her eyes. “He’s been super angsty, like, all the time.” I giggle in agreement, the air around me feeling lighter.

 

“I don’t think he likes me hanging out with Jean.”

 

She turned her head towards me for just a split second, but it was long enough for me to see her arched eyebrow and questioning eyes. “Hanging out? Is that what you call it?”

 

My face flushed when I realized what I just said. Any normal person would agree that tutoring someone was, in no way, the same thing as “hanging out” with them, and judging by the sly smirk Mikasa threw me from the corner of her eyes, she was thinking the exact same thing.

 

“Tutoring.” I blurted out immediately, knowing it did very little to undo my mistake. My hasty correction hung in the air for a moment while Mikasa drove, the silence that followed made me feel oddly exposed. Mikasa was smiling a little, though, so at least I hadn’t insulted her (I could only imagine what Eren would have barked if _he_ was the one driving instead—no, certainly we’d have swerved off the road by now).  I was just about to open my mouth and say something when she finally spoke.

 

“Do you _want_ to hang out with him?” She rolled to a stop at a red light and faced me with a serious expression.

 

I thought briefly about laughing it off with an “of course not!” but I think I’ve already made it pretty clear that my lies are pathetic and laughable, so I generally don’t even bother anymore. Instead, I thought legitimately about her question, long and hard, and did my best not to get flustered the more I thought about me and Jean casually hanging out together. As _friends._ I instinctually shook my head.

 

“No, I don’t think so,” I decided hesitantly, still unsure about whether those words were actually true or not. Yeah, Jean was a total jerk, but…did I really want to dismiss the idea of hanging out with him? Why was it, then, that I was almost _looking forward_ to our next tutoring session? That had to mean something about how I felt about his company, right? I stood in a grey area where I was both seduced and repelled by the enigma that was Jean Kirstein.

 

When Mikasa didn’t respond immediately, I explained myself. “He just seems so…. _mean_ , you know? And…” I started, thinking that perhaps this was a good time to get some dirt on Jean’s middle school self. “And didn’t you say he used to hit on you a lot in middle school?”

 

Mikasa laughed, nodding in remembrance. “He liked flirting with me, I don’t know. But he was never a mean kid, really. He’s always just seemed…troubled.”

 

I stared at her in wonder, not expecting such a three-dimensional answer. Something suddenly clicked. “He’s gay, isn’t he?”

 

“I couldn’t tell you. Probably bi, at least.”

 

“But with Marco…”

 

“Jean and Marco were really good friends in middle school. I mean, _really.”_ Mikasa bit her thumbnail and pressed gently on the gas once the light turned green, turning down the radio before she said anything else. “They were always really touchy with each other, and they always sort of huddled in their own little corner, even when a bunch of other people were around. Jean got jealous really easily, too, and people used to tease him about it whenever Marco talked to someone else. That made him really mad.”

 

I stayed silent, letting this new information marinate in my mind. “Did he have a crush on Marco?” I asked finally, because it seemed like out of everyone, Mikasa would be the one to know this.

 

She didn’t pause at my question. “You know, I really think so. I don’t think it was all one-sided, though.”

 

My eyes bulged out of my head and I gawked at Mikasa. My expression went unnoticed, though, since her eyes were glued to the road, so I tried to turn my reaction into words. “You really think so? But he…hit on you.” I felt a little dumb with that last comment, because I knew that Jean hitting on Mikasa didn’t change anything with how he felt about Marco.

 

“I mean, he’d tell me I was pretty and joke around with me in a flirty way, but then he’d run off with Marco again. Honestly, Armin? He never actually pursued me, like, at all.” She paused. “That’s not how Eren remembers it, though. As you can tell.”

 

“I don’t understand why he hates Jean so much.”

 

Mikasa laughed dryly, and I sensed that she knew _very_ well why Eren hated Jean so much. “He has his reasons. But don’t get me wrong; I’m not exactly his biggest fan, either.”

 

I felt bad at this, for some reason. I felt bad that Jean was so unlikable, especially after Mikasa said how troubled she thought he was. People only saw his surface, and that was enough to repel the majority of them. Who had time to look into the mind of a bratty seventeen year old who acted like the world didn’t deserve his full attention? Who would bother to think that there was more to him than that? That there was a reason he was the way he was?

 

“I think the main thing that bothers Eren,” Mikasa started, her eyes flickering between the road and the rearview mirror, “is the fact that you’re his best friend, and Jean is the last person he wants around his best friend.”

 

My heart instinctually warmed at that, even though a part of it still hurt for Jean.

 

  
“I can take care of myself,” is what I grumbled instead of blushing sentimentally. Because it was true. Because it was what I wanted to believe, anyways.

 

“Well, yeah,” Mikasa said, but it seemed like an automatic response, lacking the sincerity I needed to hear. “But you know Eren.”

 

I slumped a little in the passenger seat. “I wish he wouldn’t get so mad over this, though.”

 

“Yeah, well, I wish he wouldn’t get mad at me when I ask to borrow a pencil. It’ll all work out, kid.” She snickered, and just like that, everything felt like it was back to normal. I smiled at her and she turned the radio up, nodding her head gently to the music on the radio. A few minutes later, she pulled into my driveway, the front tire dipping harshly into the pothole that Alice couldn’t afford to have fixed. I chuckled to hide my mild embarrassment as Mikasa and I were lurched forward from the force, muttering an apology and assurances that we were getting that filled.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” she said coolly. “But listen, Armin,” she reached her hand towards me before I shut the door, and I turned around at the sound of my name.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You can talk to me about anything, especially if you feel like…Eren might get mad or something,” she said a little awkwardly, and I felt a pang of sadness that it even had to be like that; that I didn’t feel like I could talk to Eren about something without having him judge it.

 

“But be careful with Jean, Armin,” she warned, and I knew that one was coming. “I know you’re just his tutor right now,” _right now?_ “but just…try not to think too highly of him until you really get to know him. Be on guard, is all.”

 

I sighed, knowing her advice was sound, but wondering why this all had to be so complicated. “I know. Thanks, Mikasa.”

 

.x.

 

Driving in Eren’s neighborhood but not actually going to Eren’s house was a strange experience. Jean and I had finally gotten around to texting and planning what night worked for me to come over, so here I was. It was Wednesday night, cold as hell, and I was sitting in Jean’s driveway. He had given me his address and everything, so I had to pretend that I didn’t already know where he lived, which was super uncomfortable. Regardless, I played along as he described a “big white house with a garden out in front”, and now, as I actually saw it up close, tried to ignore how unworthy I felt of entering such an estate. My house was, like, _maybe_ the size of their garage.

 

After sitting around in my self-pity, I finally found the energy to turn off my car, mentally whining as I pushed the door open and said goodbye to my seat heater. I was awkwardly stuck between two things: wanting to get inside as fast as possible to avoid the cold, and wanting to drag out my entrance into that place for as long as time would allow. As I walked up the stone steps to the door, I noticed that all lights were on in the house and instinctually wondered how high their electricity bill must be.

 

I tried to ignore the mild nausea in my stomach as I rang the doorbell, suddenly wishing I had worn a nicer sweater. As I stood idly at the door, I made a lightning-fast, last minute decision to take down my ponytail, because it definitely looked really stupid. I ran my fingers through the loose strands, hastily trying to make it look presentable, when the door opened.

 

Jean was slumped in the doorway, wearing a cream-colored waffle shirt and a pair of khakis. One ankle was crossed over the other, and unamused eyes scanned me up and down. He stopped when he got to my face, and I insecurity gripped me tighter the longer he stared.

 

“Your hair,” he said finally, not bothering with a greeting. He didn’t explain himself further, and I opened my mouth wordlessly. Bringing my fingers to the tips of my hair, I waited for him to say something.

 

“It’s down,” he was a man of little words, as usual. I nodded in realization.

 

“Ah, right!” I said, way too enthusiastic.

 

“You usually tie it up when we do these,” he reminded me, his comment almost overlapping mine. There was something unnerving about the way he was staring at me with those eyes of steel while he leaned against the doorframe, but there wasn’t a hint of teasing in his voice. He seemed genuinely confused, as bizarre as it was.

 

“Do you want me to?” I had to ask, fighting down the instinctual giggle I felt like releasing at his peculiar comment.

 

He only gave me a shrug in response, using his shoulder to push himself off the doorframe. He took a step backwards into his house and opened the door wider. “Come on in,” he said, and I strained to hear any enthusiasm in his voice. I walked slowly into the house, my eyes widening as I took it all in. There was a large chandelier right above my head, glistening with large, clear jewels—probably diamonds. Everything looked so _clean,_ so clutter-free. My awe increased the more I compared it to my own house.

 

“Your house is amazing,” I said quietly, taking in everything I could from my spot by the doorway.  

 

“It’s something, alright.” Jean muttered. He took my jacket to the coat closet by their staircase, and I pretended I didn’t hear the bitterness in his voice.

 

“Let’s go to the kitchen, we can do the lesson there.” Jean said, already headed in that direction. Knowing I could definitely get lost in this house if I wasn’t careful, I hurriedly took my shoes off and followed him, my nerves increasing tenfold. Jean, on the other hand, looked like he had no worries in the world, and strolled slowly through their extravagant living room into the kitchen. I wondered if he was still nervous about something, considering how much he seemed to be dreading a session at his house.

 

He plopped down at their kitchen table, motioning for me to sit beside him. “My folks are here, but they won’t bother us.” There was a bite to his tone that I tried to ignore before starting our session.

 

.x.

 

“I still don’t get it,” Jean said. “Am I looking at the derivative as a linear approximation or what?”

 

I shook my head. “It’s an instantaneous rate of change. Like we do in physics.”

 

“I’m not in physics.”

 

I swallowed. He wasn’t mad at me, I knew, but he had a natural scowl on his face that was intimidating to receive. His choppy responses to me were a sign that he wasn’t grasping anything I was saying, so I needed to explain this better. “Just…think of it this way. If you have—”

 

“Jean Kirstein, get your ass up here _right this minute,”_ a man’s voice bellowed from upstairs. The chandelier above the kitchen table shook when he stomped his foot down, the diamonds hitting each other and glistening with movement. Jean paled and I looked at him dumbly, my mouth hanging open with an explanation about derivatives at the back of my throat. I swallowed whatever I was saying in a cough, fixing my gaze to the ground.

 

“I’ll be right back,” he said, and I picked up on the tremor in his tone. I figured the voice upstairs must’ve been his dad, but I hadn’t realized the walls in this house were so thin. Either that, or his dad was just yelling _really_ loud.

 

As it turned out, it was a little bit of both. I heard Jean’s footsteps up the stairs, and I heard him close the door behind him when he got upstairs. I picked at an erasure awkwardly, wondering if I should tune out their conversation. That proved hard to do, though, because loud anger took control of his dad’s voice, and it was hard to ignore.

 

“You didn’t tell me you were having a friend over.”

 

“He’s my tutor.”

 

“Oh? For what?”

 

“Calculus.” Jean had an edge to his voice, a slight defiance against his father’s pressing comments.

 

“You didn’t tell me you were fucking _failing math,_ Jean. When were you gonna let me know about this?”

 

“I’m not failing.”

 

“That’s not what your teacher told me, smartass!”

 

“Dad, can you keep it do—”

 

There was a lot of angry whispering at this point, and I felt guilty for even attempting to make out what was being said. I glanced at the clock; I had only been tutoring Jean for an hour at this point, but things had taken an uncomfortable turn. I wondered if he would want to continue with the lesson at this point, or if he would come down pissed off and tell me to go home.

 

There was a sudden rise in volume from upstairs, and I kept my head down as the fight easily reached my ears.

 

“Is this gonna be like eighth grade all over again? Am I gonna need to—”

 

“Dad, _no._ I’m trying to get my fucking grades up!”

 

“Oh, yeah? So you’re finally all done being a little faggot?”

 

“Shut the hell up, dad.”

 

I heard footsteps from above, thudding loud and hard against the floor as someone walked across the room. No words were exchanged. No words that I could hear, at least. The chandelier swung back and forth.

 

Jean came down the stairway a moment later, keeping his head down as he walked back into the kitchen. I heard the front door slam shut, and I wondered if that was Jean’s dad leaving.

 

“Sorry about that,” Jean said. When he finally looked up, I noticed his right cheek was bright red, and I could faintly make out the bits of it that resembled a handprint. Any response that I planned on giving, one where I pretended I didn’t hear just hear his dad’s verbal abuse upstairs, got caught in the back of my throat, and I felt like I was choking.

 

It was quiet in for a minute, and I felt myself blatantly staring at the mark. The chandelier was still faintly swinging above us.

 

Jean was the one who broke the silence. “Ah, fuck. You heard that, didn’t you?”

 

I could only nod in response.

 

“That bastard can yell, huh?” He didn’t laugh when he said it. “What, your parents are never assholes to you?”

 

Before I could stop myself, I said, “My parents are dead.”

 

Jean, who had previously been looking at me with his natural scowl, now parted his lips and widened his eyes at what I told him. “Oh. I’m, uh…I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. It happened when I was really little.” I said quickly, hastily explaining myself so Jean wouldn’t think I was mad at him for bringing my parents up.

 

“Yeah? That still sucks.” He plopped down next to me so his red cheek wasn’t facing me. “So, uh, who takes care of you?”

 

I knew he probably wasn’t genuinely interested in my backstory, but more or less just wanted to get the topic of conversation away from what just happened upstairs. I appeased the idea, because I knew it would be inappropriate to ask him about what I heard.

 

“My aunt, Alice. She’s my mom’s sister. I’ve been living with her since I was six.”

 

Jean nodded, seemingly unsure of what to say. Silence fell over us once again, and I fidgeted with an erasure. I knew I needed to address it; I couldn’t leave his house without addressing it.

 

“I’m sorry your dad said those things to you.”

 

“Nothing he hasn’t said before.” He said, and I shivered at the similarities between Jean's response to his dad and my response to my bullies.

 

“It’s not right.” I said quietly, hoping it would comfort him.

 

“No shit it’s not right, Armin.” He faced me now, and I could see the mark his dad on his cheek left up close. At the center it looked almost white, and I shivered when I thought about how much that must have stung, or if that was even the worst blow Jean had received. He wasn’t done speaking, though. “But a lot of things ‘aren’t right’. You get bullied every fucking day, so you know that.”

 

“That’s why I’m apologizing! Because I _do_ know, and it sucks!” I said, louder than I intended to. The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them, before I could think of something gentler to say. Jean didn’t need gentle, though, and I was definitely learning that. He looked at me evenly and I looked back, daring him to ignore that. After a beat of silence, he responded.

 

“Yeah, it does. But I’ve been on both ends, Armin.”

 

“You’ve never actually hurt me like Mike has. You helped me once.” I said, quieter than before, casting my gaze downwards.

 

“Please, I don’t deserve any of that,” he said, brushing off the grain of comfort I tried giving him.

 

“You’re better than him,” I said.

 

“Not by much. Don’t put me on a pedestal, will you?”

 

I didn’t have anything to say to that. In fact, I was a little embarrassed that Jean brushed me off like I was a fanboy or something, praising how amazing he was.

 

“Oh, I’m not,” I said, because he really wasn’t. A bystander is a bystander, after all. And Jean was 99% bystander.

 

A look crossed over his face. “Good. I don’t deserve it.”

 

“You don’t deserve what your dad said, either.” I said, suddenly feeling confident. It was like I was looking past Jean’s tough exterior and seeing… _insecurity._ I was less afraid, now. I even felt like we had something in common.

 

“Yeah, well, we both deal with words like that, don’t we?”

 

Fag, he meant. It made sense to me now. It made sense to me why Jean didn’t throw that word around, and why it seemed to bother him so much. He’s been on the receiving end of it. He’s been called one. By the way he was clenching his jaw and focusing on the ground, though, I could tell he didn’t want me to acknowledge I understood exactly what he meant when he said ‘words like that’.

 

So I didn’t. I simply nodded and told him that yeah, we both have to deal with it. He stood up then, making his way out of the kitchen and not bothering to push his chair in.

 

“I don’t think either of us can focus on math at this point,” he said over his shoulder, and I immediately got the message. I hastily threw the math textbook into my backpack and nodded, following him out of the kitchen. Looks like today’s session was as good as done. I understood why Jean was so hesitant about having a session at his house now, and felt bad for how embarrassing this entire situation must’ve been for him.

 

He opened the door for me, and I stepped outside without bothering to put my jacket on. Jean looked at me when I turned around to say goodbye, and the red mark was still brightly coloring half of his face. Sorrow must’ve been evident in my eyes, because Jean scoffed.

 

“It doesn’t hurt. Not anymore.”

 

That only made my heart break even more, and I tilted my head at him. He didn’t want pity, and I wouldn’t give it to him…outwardly, at least. “That’s good.”

 

“Sorry about…everything.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“I’ll text you. About next session.” He slowly began to close the door.

 

“Okay. Goodnight, Jean.” I turned and left then, paying little attention to the biting cold that made my body feel numb.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We push and pull,  
> & I fall down sometimes,  
> I'm not letting go,  
> You hold the other line.
> 
> Cause there is a light in your eyes, in your eyes."  
> -Mat Kearney, Breathe In Breathe Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo holy SHIT this took FOREVER to get out????? like i kind of forgot what this story was even about???? forreal??????? im sorry if this chapter sucks im just trying to get back into writing it!!! honestly updates wont be regular by any means (im really sorry about that ;-;) but hopefully i dont leave you all waiting like this again omg....it's been like four months. 
> 
> anYWAYS um im really excited because i just found out i am graduating high school top ten in my class soo yayyyy :)) hard work pays off kids! 
> 
> i hope you enjoy this chapter i am trying to make the story pick up a little bit soon! i like slow pacing but i mean SOMETHINGS gotta happen soon right??

“Ah, shit! Fucking hell, Eren,” Connie shouted from his beanbag chair, gripping his Mario Kart steering wheel with white knuckles. He was biting his bottom lip and leaning forward slightly, eyes focused intently on the bright television screen. “You know you suck at this game when you need a blue shell to win.”

 

“Excuse me, I’m only being resourceful,” Eren cut in. “ _You_ wouldn’t hesitate to use it.”

 

“I never said _I_ was good! But hey, at least I’m not Armin,” Connie said, almost sympathetically. I was in last, as usual, but it wasn’t my fault Eren’s favorite course was Rainbow Road, and I just happened to be terrible at that one. Well, I was terrible at all of them, really, but Rainbow Road was my personal seventh layer of hell. My tongue poked out of my mouth in concentration, and I hurriedly pressed B when I ran through an item box. 

 

“What the hell, you got Bullet Bill?!” Eren said as my cart zoomed past his.

 

“Only the last place losers get Bullet Bill,” Connie said.

 

“Connie, you’re a jerk,” I said, but I laughed as the words left my mouth. The item gave me enough steam to pass his cart too, and I grinned. “At least Bullet Bill is nice to me.”

 

“Oh, I see. Why don’t you just marry him, then?” Connie said.

 

“He’s a projectile bullet!”

 

“Ladies, ladies, calm down. Armin can like who he wants.”  Eren said, staring at the television screen. The comment made me oddly flustered, and I tried to tune out Connie’s laughter.

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t like Bullet Bill,” I grumbled, joking along in hopes of stopping the weird feeling in my chest.

 

“You guys would be cute together! He picks you up when you’re down.” Eren was laughing now, chuckles vibrating throughout his body and shaking his shoulders up and down.

 

“I bet he’s good in bed,” Connie just _had_ to add, and my mouth dropped at the bizarre turn the joke took.

 

“Oh my _god,”_ I said, but my head was thrown back in laughter.

 

My lover Bullet Bill could only do so much for me, though, and I lost the race anyways. Connie and Eren weren’t much farther ahead of me, though, because they decided they would keep the joke running a little longer, and neither of them could focusing on winning the race when they were laughing so hard. They didn’t care, though, and Eren was wiping tears from his eyes by the time he crossed the finish line.

 

“9th place, yessss,” he leaned back and pumped a fist in the air.

 

“8th place!” Connie mock-celebrated, watching his character slump in their cart after such a lousy race. “That’s right wimps, Waluigi beat your sorry asses.”

 

I laughed and tossed the controlled to the ground as my player, who was in 12th place, crossed the finish line at last. We sat there in content silence for a moment and listened to the peppy Mario Kart music playing in the background. Connie eventually broke the silence.

 

“Dude, Eren, remember Kirstein’s birthday parties? We’d always play games like this.” My chest tightened at the mention of Jean’s name, and I felt myself physically perk up in my beanbag chair. I clenched my teeth, though, because I knew how Eren responded to Jean being brought up. Today, I was pleasantly surprised.

 

“Yeah, those parties were sick,” he said, and I couldn’t hear any irritation in his voice.

 

“I only went for the gift bags and the games.” Connie smiled at the memories, and I noticed that he’d rolled off of his beanbag and was now lying flat on his back. “He always had the newest consoles and shit.”

 

“Spoiled brat,” Eren muttered.

 

 Connie smirked. “His house was insane, though. Like, damn. Armin, have you seen that shit? He lives right near Eren.”

 

I blinked at the mention of my name and wondered how to answer that. Pondering for a moment and then sighing, I decided to just tell the truth. “Yeah. I…was there the other day, actually,” I admitted.

 

“No shit?” Connie said.

 

“What?” Eren whipped his head towards me, his eyes demanding an explanation. I shrunk back into my seat.

 

“It was for tutoring!” I needed to get my mind off of this. “His house was huge, though.” I recalled the chandeliers in every room, and how the one in the kitchen shook and swung when his dad stomped on the ground in anger. I recalled how thin the walls were, and how I could hear every abusive word thrown at Jean as I sat motionless the floor below.

_Yeah? So are you all done being a little faggot?_

 

I shuddered.

 

“Armin?” Connie was trying to get my attention.

 

“Huh? What’d you say?” I snapped back to reality.

 

“I said, did you meet his mom? His mom was kind of hot, don’t you think, Eren?”

 

“Ew, no. She looked like Jean,” Eren was scrolling through his phone now, and didn’t seem like he was mad at me. That eliminated some of my worries, at least.

 

“I didn’t meet his mom,” I said slowly. “But…I kind of met his dad.”

 

“Yeah? I only ever saw him a handful of times. Do you remember his dad, Eren?”

 

Eren looked up, face scrunched together in thought. “I don’t think so….Wait, no! Connie, remember when he busted us and Reiner Braun for running around their pool that one time? At Jean’s like, 13th birthday party?”

 

The memory struck Connie suddenly and he threw his head back in laughter, bringing his knees up to his chest and holding his stomach. “Oh my _god,_ yes! That was the scariest fucking moment of my life!”

 

“Wait, Reiner Braun?” I asked. He was in my math class. The buff, blond, senior. Captain of the football team. A total jock, but had enough smarts to get an A in Mr. Pixis’ class. Not to mention, he had enough guts to joke around with the teacher and even get a couple laughs from him. I’d seen him talking to Jean on multiple occasions, which had never made sense to me.

 

“Yeah, the senior. He’s Jean’s cousin,” Connie said casually. _His cousin, huh?_ I thought, finally making sense of how Jean was on speaking terms with one of Trost High’s most popular seniors.

 

Connie was still reminiscing, and he shook his head, chuckling. “Man, his dad sure as hell bitched us out, huh, Eren?”

 

Eren nodded, looking mildly traumatized. “I think that was the last time I was ever over that house.”

 

“So, his dad was mean?” I said, my mind too preoccupied with Mr. Kirstein’s verbal abuse to crack a smile at their shared memory.

 

Connie shrugged. “He just seemed like a douche. You know, like a douche-dad.”

 

I hadn’t heard that phrase before. Eren squinted at me, and I could barely make out the trace of suspicion in his features. “Why?”

 

“I just got a similar impression, is all,” I mumbled. It would surely be inappropriate to delve into the details of the exact impression I got of him, so I refrained from explaining any further. But yeah, my impression was way worse than a douche-dad.

 

Eren nodded, hesitant to drop the subject. “Now you know where Jean gets it from, huh?”

 

“Jean’s not so bad!” I blurted. I hadn’t meant to. I really, really hadn’t meant to. The look of disgust that crossed over Eren’s face wasn’t worth that risk, either, and I shrunk away as soon as the words left my mouth. Connie had looked up too, and we watched Eren as his face twisted into an almost betrayed form of confusion.

 

“You don’t think so?” Was all he asked, and he didn’t even sound mad. He sounded—no, he _looked—_ hurt, with his big blue eyes searching my face for evidence that I was just joking. I kept my expression stern, and he eventually figured out that no, I wasn’t joking. He nodded slowly, adjusting to the change in atmosphere.

 

“I know you hated him in middle school,” I started, because I would have to at least _try_ explaining myself. “But he hasn’t been mean to me, even when I suck as a tutor.”

 

“So hanging out with the people who bully you regularly isn’t mean,” Eren phrased it as a statement, one he surely thought I couldn’t counter. His jaw was slack and his arms were crossed, bunching up the collar of his flannel. I had gotten him that flannel for his birthday last year, a present for the best friend I’ve ever had in my life. It reminded me of how hard it was going to be to say what was on my mind, how hard it was going to be to speak my feelings to Eren.

 

“Who else is he gonna talk to?” I countered, and Eren’s eyes widened. “He clearly doesn’t fit in with them, Eren!”

 

“Maybe if he wasn’t a total dick to everyone, that problem would be solved!” Eren barked. “Listen, Armin, he’s being tolerable to you because he wants to pass the goddamn math class, not because he’s some misunderstood damsel in distress.”

 

“Eren, you ca—”

 

“Stop pretending like you know _anything_ about him, because you _don’t.”_

 

Silence fell over us. My lips were parted in surprise and I gaped at Eren, noting how the skin between his eyebrows was bunched together from his deep scowl. His face was tinted red, and I noticed a vein faintly bulging near his temple. Connie was staring at both of us in discomfort, awkwardly pulling out his phone and pretending he didn’t hear our yelling match. The Mario Kart music was still playing softly in the background, and Connie shuffled over to turn the Wii off.

 

“Tell me what I need to know, Eren,” I said evenly, deciding it would be a bad idea to raise my voice even more at this point.

 

“He hurts people, Armin. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.” His words were harsh, but his eyes had softened a bit.

 

I frowned. “Did he hurt you?”

 

Eren scoffed, the pissed-off expression making its way back onto his previously concerned, gentle face. “No. I’m not idiotic enough to get involved with him.”

 

“I was just asking,” I snapped.

 

Eren’s fists were wound tightly at his sides, and his shoulders looked tense. He had that stubborn look on his face, one I had seen many times before. His jaw was clenched and his arms crossed; he wasn’t going to say anything in that state. I didn’t plan on breaking the silence either, and instead mustered up the best scowl I could manage. I waited for him to explain why he was so worked up, but he didn’t. He just glared at me with those intriguing, round eyes and dared me to cross him.

 

“Sorry about this, Connie,” was all he ended up saying, not once taking his eyes off me. “I better get going now.”

 

I sighed, breaking my gaze away from Eren’s and glancing at the poor boy on the other side of the room. _One of us has to be at least a little mature about this, and it clearly isn’t going to be Eren._ “Yeah, me too. I’m really sorry about everything.”

 

Connie looked nervous, but tried to laugh it off. “No worries. You guys will work it out, I’m sure.”

 

Eren scoffed, which made my stomach twist. Everything he had said up to now were things I could just brush off; after all, it wasn’t like we hadn’t fought before. But he was being moodier than I’d ever seen him be, and everything about him just looked so _bitter._ I tried to ignore the fact that he genuinely hurt my feelings and looked away as he slammed the door, leaving myself and Connie alone.

 

“Well, that escalated quickly,” Connie said, awkwardly trying to break the tension. He sighed when I didn’t join his laughter. “Are you okay, Armin?”  He asked, quiet and hesitant.

 

I tried to form some sort of response to that question. “Yeah,” I said, my arms limp at my side and my shoulders low.

 

“Ah, you know Eren. He’ll be fine by tomorrow morning.”

 

“I don’t know about that,” I tried to control the quiver in my voice, remembering Mikasa’s similar response to Eren’s moodiness the other day. _You know Eren._ Yeah, I _did_ know Eren, but not the Eren he was being lately. Not the bitter, irritable and cold Eren he’d been embodying lately.

 

 I eventually said goodbye to Connie (after apologizing multiple times) and resolved to talk to Eren about whatever was bothering him soon.

 

.x.

 

“I’m home,” I called into the dimly-lit kitchen. I dropped my backpack by the door and ignored how I still felt a huge weight on my shoulders; the weight of Eren’s and my struggling friendship. I took a deep breath and called out again.

 

“Mom?” I padded through the kitchen, the wooden floor surprisingly cold for a 50 degree evening. I was hoping Alice wouldn’t be home and I could just hole up in my room for the night, but a robed figure made its way down the stairs as soon as I’d called the second time, the soles of her slippers tapping against the floor.

 

“Hi, Little Armin,” she said, using the nickname she’d used for me since I was a kid. Her hair was wrapped in a towel and her skin was warm when she hugged me. She must’ve just gotten out of the shower.

 

“How was Connie’s? I’m sorry honey, I thought you were staying for dinner, so I don’t have anything made yet….” She started glancing around the kitchen, probably calculating a meal she could make that was fast and easy. I touched her arm gently and shook my head.

 

“No, mom, it’s fine. I’m not hungry.”

 

“Is everything okay?” She peered at my face, concern seeping into her features. I really didn’t feel like talking about this with her and shook my head again.

 

“I’m fine, I’m just really tired,” I lied. “I have a lot of homework.”

 

“Okay, honey. If you want any food later just let me know, okay?”

 

“I will. Thanks, mom.”

 

.x.

 

Jean wasn’t at school on Monday. We had a pop quiz in Calculus, which Mr. Pixis said I would have to help Jean study for. My mind being too preoccupied with the fact that I hadn’t seen Eren all day and he probably hated my guts, he had to ask me twice before I actually comprehended what was being said.

 

“Will you stop by his house today and drop the homework off? I normally wouldn’t do this for students, but I don’t want him to fall any further behind,” he said to me at the end of class as kids were filing out of the room.

 

“Yeah, sure—” I was interrupted by a deep voice.

 

“Jeanny sure is a slacker, huh Pixis?” Reiner said as he slung his backpack over his shoulder, smiling good naturedly. “I say Armin _doesn’t_ drop the homework off so he pays for playing hooky.”

 

Pixis chuckled at the comment, and meanwhile my mind was reeling. _He actually knows my name? Reiner Braun knows my name?_

“I don’t think so, Reiner. But thank you for letting me know how to deal with you if _you_ start struggling with this class and have a sick day.”

 

Reiner laughed from his stomach, the noise almost bellowing. “Yeah, okay, _‘sick day’._ And you know I’d never fall behind in Calc, Dot.”

 

“Your last test says otherwise, Braun,” Mr. Pixis said, but the side of his eyes were crinkled up and I could faintly make out the shape of a grin under his well-kept mustache. Reiner laughed and sauntered off, and I wished I wasn’t so awkward. I wished _I_ could be like that with teachers.

 

Instead, I nibbled at the skin around my fingernail, not saying a word, and waited for Mr. Pixis to give me Jean’s papers. My plan afterwards was to leave the room and avoid Eren at all costs, which meant I would probably go to the library. There was no way I could go to next period lunch and sit with my usual group, as much as I wanted to see Sasha and Connie. No, I didn’t want to put Connie through that tense environment all over again.

 

I nodded blankly at Pixis when he explained what the homework was and took the papers from him, irrationally annoyed at Jean for staying home and irrationally annoyed at my Calc teacher for tasking me to give him his missing work. I still managed to smile at him as I left the classroom, though, and told him to have a nice day.

 

I let my shoulders slouch when I got into the hallway, sighing deeply in an attempt to de-stress my thoughts. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall, deciding that I was probably tired enough to fall asleep right there, where everyone would see me. I didn’t even care that lying in the middle of the hallway would look like I was dead; in fact, maybe _that_ wouldn’t be so bad, either.  

 

“You okay, Armin?”

 

My eyes flew open and I winced, failing to put a stop to the startled grunt that escaped my mouth. Marco was staring at me, his brown eyes large and kind. From where I was standing, I could make out the tired bags that hung from them, his (somewhat _sad_ _)_ eyes contrasting the friendly smile on his face. He looked so… _genuine._

“Uh,” I swallowed, noticing then that I was hugging Jean’s papers to my chest and they had become crumpled. “Yeah! I’m….fine. Just got out of calc and my head hurts a little, I guess.”

 

Marco nodded but didn’t say anything. Silence fell over us and I expected him to walk away, but he didn’t. He just shifted his weight between each leg and looked everywhere besides me. He ran a hand through his hair, ruining his center part and leaving his locks looking slightly disheveled. I almost asked him if _he_ was okay, but he finally spoke up.

 

“What do you have there?”

 

It took me a second to process that by ‘there’, he meant Jean’s papers. They still looked crumpled, and I frowned at myself for not being able to do even _one_ thing right. “This kid I’m tutoring is out today and Mr. Pixis asked me to give him the work he missed,” I explained, lamely trying to smooth the papers out with the flat of my palm.

 

Marco smiled in awe. “That’s great! Who are you tutoring?”

 

“Jean Kirstein.”

 

At the mention of his name, Marco’s face paled. He licked his bottom lip and smiled, the grin stretching across his face unnaturally, never quite meeting his eyes. “No kidding,” was all he said, and his strained response reminded that there was clearly come history between those two. _Way to go, Armin. You could’ve just said you were tutoring Connie or something, you idiot._

 

“Do you know him?” I asked, giving up on smoothing the papers and instead folding them and shoving them into my cardigan pocket. Looking back on the conversation, I probably _shouldn’t_ have asked that, but I was too emotionally drained to care about etiquette as well as painfully curious about what went on between them.

 

“We went to middle school together. We used to be friends. Best friends, actually.” Marco didn’t meet my eyes when he spoke, focusing instead on his shoes. I was surprised he answered so honestly, but then again, I couldn’t expect much else from a guy like Marco Bott.

 

“What, uh…did something happen?” The words left my mouth before I could filter them, and I was horrified at how much it sounded like I was prying. After all, this was supposed to be a casual ‘how-are-you-doing-I’m-good-thanks’ conversation you had while passing your acquaintance in the hallway, not a ‘tell-me-all-about-your-history-with-a-boy-who-clearly-hurt-you’ one.

 

Marco didn’t look offended, though. Or, if he was, he did a great job hiding it. He smiled at me, the grin looking a little more genuine this time, and nodded his head sadly. “We just, uh…we just grew apart. He went to boarding school freshman and sophomore year, so I never really saw him.”

 

“Oh,” I said, not knowing how to express my sympathies. “Do you…we can talk about it, if you want.”

 

“No, it’s fine. Nothing major happened, anyways,” Marco said, his tone a forced kind of cheeriness. He glanced at his watch and waved his hand dismissively, starting down the hallway. “I have to go to class, now. See you in chem, Armin!”

 

“See you then,” I said, my head pounding. I didn’t even recognize my own voice and began obsessing over the fact that Marco probably just saw right through me. I never was good at hiding my problems.

 

But then again, by the way Marco’s head was hanging and his feet were dragging, it looked like _he_ was dealing with something of his own, too.

 

.x.

 

I was 100% done with the day by the time I pulled into Jean’s driveway. I managed to spill about a fourth of my water on his papers, and they got progressively more crumpled throughout the day. I _had_ handled them rather irresponsibly, but I was so mad at anything and anyone that I convinced myself my water and cardigan pocket were more at fault than my own carelessness.

 

Eren texted me when school was over, but I didn’t even bother to read it. I just wanted to give Jean his homework and go home.

 

It only took one ring on the doorbell before the door creaked open. Jean greeted me wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. Dark circles hung from his eyes and his paler than usual skin made his face look hollow. He adjusted his beanie when he saw me, and I noticed that his hair was matted down, even a little greasy.

 

“Hey,” his voice was raspy.

 

“Hi,” I said, pretty positive my voice cracked. Jean didn’t notice, or at least he didn’t act like he did. He didn’t do anything, actually, and, in seeing that he was making no effort to ask what I was doing at his house or make any conversation at all, I took a breath and decided I would just get this over with.

 

“Pixis gave me some papers for you. It’s what you missed today.” I held out the sheets and he nodded at me, taking them from my hand.

 

“What the hell happened to them?” His eyes bugged out a bit as he took in the condition of the papers. My fists clenched at my sides. He couldn’t even let a water stain slide, could he?

 

“Sorry, I spilled some of my drink on it,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound _too_ passive. Jean looked up from trying to smooth them down and nodded slowly. I sensed he was picking up on my lousy mood and tried to soften my gaze a bit so I didn’t look too pissed off.

 

“It’s cool,” he said, and there was an awkward beat of silence. I considered just leaving, but Jean spoke up. “Is this stuff hard to do, or..?”

 

He looked nervous, like he was afraid of the new material and how well he would understand it. I felt a pang of sympathy for him. “It’s not too bad. I’ll help you with it. We, uh, also had a quiz in class today.”

 

Jean’s vulnerable, innocent expression vanished and was replaced by something much more pissed off. “Fuck. On this stuff?”

 

“No, on what we did Friday. I’ll help you with it tomorrow….if you’re in school.”

 

Jean paused, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll be in tomorrow.”

 

“Were you sick?”

 

“Y-yeah,” Jean said, and I could easily see through his lies. He even coughed into his hand after he said it, and it looked so phony that I would’ve had a better chance of believing him if he hadn’t done anything at all.

 

“Oh,” I said. “Well, I hope you feel better, Jean.” I turned around and began making my way back to my car when his voice stopped me.

 

“Hey, Armin.”

 

I turned, my heart squeezing when I saw his arm outstretched and reaching towards me. He stayed in that position for a moment before shoving his hand into his pocket. By the look of concentration on his face, he was hyping himself up to say something.

 

“I have a C in calculus,” he announced finally, the crease between his brows tightly knit. It was good news, but he scowled as he said it.

 

“That’s really good, Jean! You had an F a few weeks ago.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, that’s—” he sighed. “Will you let me take you out to lunch or something? As, like, an expression of thanks or some shit?”

 

Out of all the things I was expecting him to say, that had to be last on my list. My lips parted in surprise and I reached up to tuck some stray hair behind my ear. Jean wasn’t looking at me, and his jaw appeared extra chiseled from the force he was clenching it with. I could tell my silence was torturing him, leaving him vulnerable, so I spoke up as soon as I found a voice to do so.

 

“I’d love to,” I smiled, and Jean’s head snapped up to look at me.

 

“Cool,” he breathed, and his face flushed with color. “Alright. I’ll text you.” He turned slowly on one heel, trudging inside after one last glance in my direction.

 

“Okay,” I said, giggling and turning to leave. The chilly October air did little to cool my reddened face.

 

Maybe today hadn’t been so bad, after all.


End file.
